


Mine

by orphan_account



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Decepticon!Jazz, Eventual Romance, Graphic Violence, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz/Prowl.<br/>Prowl is a talented tactician. Jazz is a Decepticon saboteur.<br/>Jazz finds Prowl fascinating. And when something fascinates him, he doesn't like letting it go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jazz/Prowl story, because I love this pairing so much. With Decepticon!Jazz, because there isn't enough of it ;)  
> This story will most likely eventually contain sticky smut (yay)

Jazz/Prowl story, because I love this pairing so much. With Decepticon!Jazz because the idea fascinates me ;)

Yes, this story will most likely eventually feature sticky smut, but I'll warn you when that time comes. Please leave a review to let me know what you think? :)

"Prowl?"

"Prowl, sir." Prowl corrected as he looked up from the reports he had been reading to focus on Bluestreak, who had appeared in the doorway of his office.

"Yes, sorry." Bluestreak smiled nervously. "Can I come in?"

Prowl nodded in assent and straightened: his posture had slumped fractionally while he was doing his reports. "Can I help you?"

Bluestreak sat down opposite Prowl. "Um.. How are you doing?"

Prowl's optics narrowed. "I am well. What is this about?"

Bluestreak laughed nervously. "What do you mean?"

Prowl stared blankly.

Bluestreak struggled to hold his piercing gaze, but looked away after a couple of seconds. "Me and Smokescreen were worried about you."

Prowl frowned. "I am fine, Bluestreak."

"Yeah, Smokey said you'd say that." Bluestreak fidgeted. "Thing is... You've been even more distant than usual. You should get out of your office more often."

Prowl's optics narrowed again. "Bluestreak. I appreciate both your concerns and Smokescreen's, but I am perfectly capable of looking after myself."

Bluestreak shifted in his seat. "I understand that, really. But we're worried. I mean... Sideswipe said that social contact is important for-"

"I do not have any particular interest in what Sideswipe has to say about my social life."

"Of course. Sorry." Bluestreak said quickly. "Um.. I brought you energon."

Prowl watched silently as Bluestreak took a cube of energon out of his subspace and placed it on the desk. "Thank you."

Bluestreak nodded and watched as Prowl took a measured sip of energon before placing it back on the desk. "Listen.. We're just trying to look out for you, you know? We're pretty much the last Praxians - we need to look out for each other. Right?"

Socially and emotionally challenged as he was, Prowl saw the flicker of pain that passed through the younger mechs optics. "Of course."

Bluestreak nodded, taking a deep intake. "Yeah. Okay. Um... So you'll be more sociable?"

Prowl struggled not to roll his optics. "Bluestreak-"

"Okay, okay!" Bluestreak laughed. "I'll go."

Prowl watched as the younger Praxian waved and left the room. He drained the remainder of his cube, and looked back to his reports.

He had only been alone for a moment when he got a comm. from Optimus.

/All senior officers to the main command deck.\\\

Prowl was on his feet immediately, and almost half way out the door before the comm. ended. As much as reports and paperwork usually cleared his processor, Bluestreak's visit had been an unwanted distraction. Hopefully, this meeting would prove to be useful, and not a waste of time.

As he walked down the corridors of the Iaconian Autobot Base, several Autobots avoided him none-too-subtly. He didn't take it personally, of course - he never did. As he walked however, one particular bot fell into step beside him. "Spectrum." He greeted without glancing at the mech beside him.

"Prowl." The head of Special Ops replied evenly. "How are you?"

Prowl felt a slight twinge of irritation at the question. "I am fine."

Spectrum hummed thoughtfully. "I heard Bluestreak came to see you."

Prowl turned his deadpan stare on the Special Ops mech as they walked. Spectrum was a good looking bot: his body was streamlined and slim, as most special ops mechs are. He had silvery paint that shimmered when he moved (and was no doubt very expensive), and purple optics, which were so rare these days now that Cybertron was so caught up in the war that passing bots openly stared.

"You were eavesdropping." Prowl stated.

"Of course." Spectrum said easily, not even a little ashamed. "And I agree with our dear sniper very much. You could do with some social activity."

If Prowl had been a lesser mech, he would have snorted. As it was, he flicked his doorwings once before they became motionless again. "I would rather not discuss this right now."

"Of course." Spectrum inclined his head as they reached the entrance to the command deck. He nodded to the door. "After you."

Prowl murmured his thanks as he entered the room first. He nodded his respectful greetings to Optimus, before walking purposefully over to a place at the already full table. Spectrum followed behind him easily, sliding into the chair next to him.

Optimus nodded at their arrival and stood up. "Very well, I believe that's everyone. Now - you all know why you are here. Prowl?"

The tactician nodded and stood up, standing rigid with his arms behind his back. "Thank you, sir. Nine orns ago, a troop of Autobot spies entered a known Decepticon base in Kaon. They have not returned, and have become unreachable through comm. links. For this reason, myself and Spectrum, Head of Special Operations, have devised the following plan to enter the Kaon base and rescue our troop."

A couple of bots rolled their optics at Prowl's stiff formality, but most were silent and attentive as Prowl explained his tactical plan with the help of Spectrum. When they had finished, Prowl cast his optics around the table. "Are there any questions?"

A white mech, who Prowl's facial recognition scanners said was named Mirage, spoke up. "Have you considered the possibility of the Decepticon's spotting us and raising the alarm once we get inside?"

Spectrum snorted. "You're insulting him by even considering that he has not run every single possibility through his processor. It's his job."

Mirage scowled and sat back in his seat, looking scolded. Prowl cleared his vocal processor. "Yes. I have. The simple solution would be to get out as soon as possible. But, if you manage to follow my plan, the Decepticons will not even know that you have been there until you're gone."

Optimus nodded. "Thank you, Prowl. I believe that Breakaway has something to add."

Breakaway, one of the few femme spies that worked with Spectrum, stood and nodded respectfully to Optimus. "Yeah. Well, the Kaon base ain't known fer it's fanciness. It ain't the head o' Decepticon operations, but it's still pretty impo'tant. There're a few dangerous 'cons tha' ya gotta watch yer back for: It's rumoured Soundwave's there." A small whisper went through the gathering of bots, before they fell silent to listen to Breakaway's report. "Ya all know why he's bad. Another one ya gotta watch out for is their Special Ops mech. We don't got much info on him, because the only bots tha' ever survive encounters wi'h him are pretty much on'y able ta stutter his name. So all we got is the designation 'Jazz'. We don't even know what he looks like. So ya gotta be careful, 'cause this base ain't gon'be easy ta break into. It's gon'be ever harder ta break out of with extra bots. Y'all listen ta Prowl, an' you'll be fine."

Prowl nodded acknowledgement to the femme as she took a seat again. Optimus nodded and stood, immediately recapturing everyone's attention. "Spectrum, I believe you will be leading your own team of Autobots under Prowl's supervision."

"Yes sir."

"Very good. You may get ready to leave."

Prowl and Spectrum stood at the same time. The Special Ops mech grinned at the stoic tactician beside him. "This is going to be fun. I can tell."

/i\\\

Everything was going according to plan. They had gotten in successfully, and were making good progress towards getting to the brig.

Every enemy they came across was disabled silently and quickly, before being stuffed and hidden in a nearby storage closet or something.

Prowl and Spectrum were working well together, as usual.

But they didn't even consider the possibility that they might have been being followed.

Swinging on the metal rafters on the ceiling high above them, a lithe silver frame danced after them. He was fast enough so he didn't lose sight of them, yet slow enough that it barely cost any extra energy.

A red visor gleamed in the darkness as he followed the Autobot intruders as they stormed towards the brig to save their companions. They were good. Well trained. He had to admire that.

He was just better.

One particular Autobot had caught his attention - the reason he was following the group instead of simply murdering them all. He was clearly of Praxian design, and he wore it proudly. His red chevron practically gleamed, and his doorwings flared over his back gracefully. Those doorwings were incredibly distracting.

The Praxian had unwittingly saved his companions lives by simply being himself. By catching the attention of the Decepticon above him.

Jazz didn't make a sound as he swung himself from rafter to rafter after his prey. It amused him to let them come so far into the base only for him to ruin their hopes of ever escaping.

Megatron had told him not to harm the last group of Autobots that had entered as they could be used for blackmail, and he had done so grudgingly. But Megatron had said nothing about a rescue team.

Jazz grinned predatorily as the group of Autobots reached the brig and pushed their way inside. He had to give them credit for being able to make their way so far into the base without setting off the alarms. Although, he gave most of the credit to the Praxian mech. It was clear that he was in charge.

Jazz didn't make a sound as he dropped from the ceiling to the floor. The normal clang of metal feet hitting metal floor was absent, so none of the Autobots had any warning he was behind them. He decided to keep quiet and wait until they noticed.

From behind, Jazz could admire the Praxian's mechs exquisite doorwings. He had always had a fixation on wings; whether he was pulling them off a prisoner, fondling them on a lover, or simply admiring them on a passing frame, they fascinated him. He had seen more impressive ones, of course - a Seekers impressive wings would practically shame a doorwinger into hiding.

But he had never seen doorwings so perfectly controlled. Wings were often an outlet of emotions - they twitched when nervous, flared when angry or threatened, and drooped when sad. And yet this mechs doorwings hadn't moved from their erect place since Jazz had laid optics on them. That took a kind of self control he couldn't imagine.

The object of his current fixation was following the group of bots, lead by a mech with purple optics, down to the bottom of the brig, where their allies were being held captive.

"Stay there, we're going to get you out." The silver mech was saying to them.

The Praxian looked around, but Jazz had already melted into the darkness. If he didn't want to be seen, he would not be seen. The Praxian turned back to his companions. "We must hurry."

Jazz grinned at the sound of his voice. It was deep and soothing, and tight and controlled at the same time. Jazz briefly wondered what it would take to break that control, and in that moment he knew he wasn't going to hurt the Praxian or his group. This time.

"I know." The silver mech grunted back as he deactivated the energon bars and freed the captives. "The Decepticon's could-"

The alarm went off suddenly, a loud, wailing klaxon. Jazz was mildly disappointed that he didn't get a longer chance to study the interesting Autobot mech.

"Slag!" The silver bot cursed as he ushered the prisoners down the hall.

The Praxian straightened up. "Does everyone remember the plan for this scenario?" He called over the klaxon.

Most of the bots nodded.

"Then go." The Praxian was completely dispassionate - at complete odds to the prisoners, who had begun to panic.

"Wait, sir! He'll come back!" One whimpering mech was seemingly having a breakdown.

The Praxian stared at him. "Who will come back?"

"The one-opticked mech." He whimpered.

"Has he harmed you?" The Praxian asked as the other Autobots trickled out of the brig to execute the 'plan' - it seemed that they were simply splitting up and all going in different directions.

"N-no. He just.. He stares."

The Praxian eyed up the panicking mech, as if trying to evaluate whether or not the mech was joking. "Follow Spectrum." He said at last, pointing at the silver mech, who nodded and went for the door.

The Praxian was the last Autobot to leave. He was also the one Jazz followed.

The Decepticon couldn't help but be impressed by this mechs obvious knowledge of the base. The other 'cons had worked so hard to keep the schematics of the base secret - Jazz held back a giggle at the thought of Soundwave working so hard over information that had leaked.

Suddenly, he noticed that the Autobot had taken a wrong turn. He was headed towards Shockwave's lab. That wouldn't do at all.

"Hey." Jazz stepped out of hiding so the Praxian could see him. "You're goin' the wrong way."

The Autobot whirled around, blaster already trained on the saboteur in front of him. "Do not move."

Jazz smirked. "Please. Don't embarrass yourself. Ah could kill ya before you so much as pull the trigger."

The Praxian didn't move; every joint in his body was locked tensely. His cold blue optics followed Jazz as the smaller mech loped towards him. "What do you want?"

Jazz grinned. "Nothin'. I just wanted ta tell you that you were goin' the wrong way."

The Praxian remained motionless. "You expect me to trust you?"

Jazz grinned and leaned casually against the wall, folding his arms over his chassis. "Sure, why not? Plus, you're headin' straight for a place ya don't wanna go."

The Autobot stayed locked in place, although his optics flickered behind him slightly. "Where would that be?"

Jazz's grin didn't falter, but his visor darkened. "Ah told ya. Someplace ya wouldn't wanna go. Why don't ya follow meh?"

The Praxian mech seemed to still slightly. Jazz could practically see the hardware in the other mechs processor as it worked.

"Or ya could stay here and wait for the other Decepticon's ta find ya." Jazz added helpfully. "But they prob'ly wouldn't be as friendly as meh."

That seemed to make up the Autobot's mind. "Very well." He said stiffly. "Lead the way."

Jazz grinned and whirled around, leading the Autobot in the correct direction. "So, you come here often?"

The Autobot ignored the question, looking around warily as he followed Jazz. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doin' what?"

"Helping me."

Jazz rolled his shoulders in a shrug as they walked. "How do ya know Ah ain't leadin' ya into a trap instead?"

The Praxian didn't even blink. "I do not. That is why I wish to know your motives for helping me."

Jazz grinned even wider at the mech's stiff and formal way of talking. "Maybe Ah just think you're interestin'. There ain't many interestin' mechs around this base, ya know?"

The mech made a funny sound that almost sounded almost like a snort. "I can not say that I hear that often."

"Hear what? That you're interestin'?" Jazz asked curiously.

"Indeed." The Praxian said. He seemed calm, which Jazz found fascinating. Most mechs in his position would be panicking and crying. Jazz doubted that this Autobot even knew who he was.

"Hmm." Jazz said thoughtfully. "Ya never told meh your name."

"I don't think that I should disclose that information under these circumstances." The Praxian said stoically as he followed Jazz's lead down the corridors. They were headed down a hall that hadn't been on the original schematics - one of Jazz's secret shortcuts.

"So if we had met under different circumstances, ya'd tell meh your name?"

"Perhaps." The Praxian said evenly. "If necessary. Although you never told me your designation, either."

Jazz grinned as he walked. "We're nearly there."

"Where?"

"Outside. That's where ya wanna go, yeah?"

"Yes." The Praxian confirmed cautiously. "I assume you would expect some form of payment in return for your assistance."

Jazz tilted his head thoughtfully, as if it hadn't occurred to him. "Hmm.. Maybe.. How 'bout your name?" He asked with a grin as they arrived at a hidden exit.

The Autobot straightened as Jazz opened the door. "That... seems to be an adequate price. Is that all?"

Jazz grinned wider. "Of course."

"Prowl."

Jazz tilted his head as his optics roved 'Prowl's frame behind his visor. "Prowl.." He repeated. "Suits ya."

Prowl inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I very much appreciate your help."

Jazz snickered. "Right. Ah think ya should know that once Ah develop a fascination with somethin', Ah don't let it go easily. And you, Prowl, fascinate meh."

Prowl's pretty blue optics met Jazz's deep red visor. "Is that so?"

Jazz stepped forwards, purposefully invading the larger mechs personal space. "Hope it doesn't bother ya. Ah think we'll be seeing each other again real soon."

Prowl didn't flinch back from the sudden proximity of Jazz's face, but he did frown disapprovingly at him. "Boundaries."

Jazz barked out a laugh as he stepped back. He was honestly, pleasantly surprised. It was refreshing to meet a bot who wasn't afraid of him.

Prowl drew his shoulders back. "I am sure we will." He continued Jazz's line of conversation. "I look forward to being able to thank you properly next time we meet."

Jazz raised an optic ridge behind his visor and smirked. "Was Ah really supposed ta take that seriously and not as a sexual invitation?"

"Yes." Prowl deadpanned.

Jazz frowned behind his visor, "Ah get the impression that you don't get sexual invitations much."

"On the contrary, I get them often." Prowl said dully. "I simply do not accept them."

Jazz's visor brightened in interest. "Why not?"

"Perhaps I will tell you next time we meet." Prowl said dryly, suddenly aware of how much time he had wasted talking to this unusual Decepticon when he should have been escaping. "You know, usually when a Decepticon helps an Autobot, it is usually a trap, or they are planning to defect."

Jazz snorted. "This ain't a trap, and Ah don't plan on defectin' anywhere, cutie."

Prowl, who had been practically emotionless up until this point, raised his optic ridges in surprise. "What did you just call me?"

"Ah called ya cutie. Ah think it suits ya almost as well as 'Prowl' does." Jazz answered casually. "Ah'm sure Ah'll be seein' plenty of ya, whether Ah defect or not."

Prowl, still thrown off at being called 'cutie', blinked as Jazz pushed him towards the door. "Wait," Prowl paused before he disappeared out the door. "You never told me your name."

Jazz shrugged. "Ah like to keep some things mysterious, y'know? Maybe Ah'll tell ya next time."

Prowl watched as the silver mech backed away into the shadows, disappearing completely. Even his spark signature vanished. "Very well." Prowl murmured, finally turning to the door and pushing outside. To his surprise, he was back where Spectrum's team had originally broken in.

"Prowl!"

Prowl turned at the call of his name to see Spectrum beckoning him towards the group. He hurried over to them, nodding his greetings. "Is everyone here?"

"Yes. It's time to go."

As they left, no one noticed the red visor watching Prowl's back.

/i\\\

"You say this mech helped you?" Optimus said thoughtfully.

Prowl nodded. "Yes sir."

Everyone else in the conference room was silent, watching the Autobot leader think. "Did he seem liable to defect?"

Prowl had already thought about this. "No. But I feel that could change, given time. This mech seemed to know his way very well around the base - I believe he could be important. Important enough to know the location of other Decepticon bases, perhaps."

Optimus nodded thoughtfully. "We will hold out hope. Other than your unexpected detour, the rescue mission went without any problems?"

Prowl nodded. "Yes sir."

Optimus smiled. "Very good. I believe Mirage managed to obtain Decepticon files before you left?"

Mirage stood with his arms behind his back. His nose was slightly less stuck up in the air than usual, but only because he was addressing Optimus. "I hacked into the mainframe of the base before I escaped to meet up at the rendezvous point. I had to do it quickly, however, because Soundwave had become aware of my presence. I managed to extract the following files onto a hard drive." The white spy directed everyone's attention to a large screen on the wall behind the large table. "This is a known Decepticon hotspot in Kaon. It's one of the most notorious black markets in the city - most of the Decepticons weapons are traded here. If we can somehow manage to close it down, we may gain an advantage."

"Aren't those new twin recruits from Kaon?" Ironhide spoke up suddenly. "They might know the territory. Their records aren't exactly clean."

Optimus nodded thoughtfully. "We will have to ask. Continue, Mirage."

Prowl sat upright, giving his unequivocal attention to the information gathered by Mirage even as the bots around the table struggled not to fall into recharge.

Several files later, Mirage said "And the last file I managed to pull is one that will hopefully be-"

"The last one?" Ratchet interrupted. "Good. I need to get back to the med bay."

Mirage scowled at the interruption. "Anyway. The final file isn't complete - I had to cut the connection because Soundwave released a virus into the system so I couldn't download any more files. But, it's a lot more information than we previously had on the mech. I assume you all remember yesterday, when we discussed the danger of Jazz, the head saboteur for the Decepticons." There was a general murmur of assent from everyone in the room. "Well, we now know what he looks like."

A picture of the mech came up on the screen, and Prowl's engine stalled in shock. It was the mech that had helped him. "That's Jazz?"

"Yes." Mirage glanced around to Prowl.

The tactician frowned. "He can not be as dangerous as is rumoured."

Mirage raised an optic ridge condescendingly. "On the contrary, he is perhaps even more dangerous - we have no idea the extent of his insanity."

"Insanity." Prowl repeated, remembering what the mech - Jazz - had said to him. Once Ah develop a fascination with somethin', Ah don't let it go easily.

"Yes. He has done unspeakable things to our bots. He needs to be taken out, and now we have a face to the name! We can plan properly now. He's not a ghost anymore."

Prowl was startled to see Optimus nodding thoughtfully. "If he is truly as dangerous as you say, you may have a point."

"But if he defects to our side, it would be a great tactical advantage!" Prowl inserted, feeling strangely protective of the mech who had saved him, despite the fact he was a Decepticon.

Optimus nodded again. "He may not even consider it, however. Is there any other information on him in the file?"

Mirage shook his helm. "No creation date, no place of origin, no creators. If not for the picture, it would be as though he didn't exist."

Optimus sighed and nodded. "I will think on it. For now, relax and recuperate. You have earned it." Optimus gave them a small smile, before excusing them.

The last thing Prowl looked at before leaving the conference room was that familiar visored face on the monitor.

TBC :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your interest in the story! I hope you like the rest of it :)

"Prowl?" Bluestreak called from the door.

Prowl looked up and gave the younger Praxian a stern look.

"Prowl, sir." Bluestreak corrected himself. "Can I come in?"

Prowl nodded and gestured to the chair by his desk. "How can I help you?"

Bluestreak came in, but didn't sit. "How come you're still here?"

Prowl glanced up briefly before focusing his attention on the reports on his desk. "I have work to do."

"But sir, the work shift is over. Sideswipe is throwing a party in the rec. room! You should come!"

"Was this party authorised?"

Bluestreak paused, realising that it probably wasn't. "Uh... Well, I'm not sure because Sideswipe never said, he just said that he was throwing a party and that everyone is welcome so I thought that this would be a great opportunity for you to be social! And I know it's not authorised and you like things to be by the book, but Optimus will be there, so I don't think it's too illegal-"

"Optimus will be there?" Prowl repeated.

Bluestreak caught himself and nodded. "Yes, sir. And I think he would agree with me that you're spending too much time working."

Prowl waved the younger mechs concern away. "I am finishing up here now, but I am not going to a party."

Bluestreak sagged, but nodded. "Alright. Maybe another time?"

"Perhaps." Prowl said stiffly as he watched the sniper leave the room. Once he was gone, Prowl allowed his stiff posture to droop slightly. He hadn't been able to focus on his work properly at all - his processor was too full of Jazz.

Jazz, who had helped him. Who had saved him. Who was a Decepticon. Who no doubt killed and tortured countless of Prowl's allies. Who was completely insane. Considering he had only met the mech once a week ago, his thoughts were strangely focused on the 'con.

Prowl groaned and rubbed his faceplates tiredly. Bluestreak was right - he was working too much. He stood up and stretched, ignoring the crack of his spinal struts as they snapped into place. Deciding he need some fresh air, Prowl exited his office and made his way outside.

He didn't encounter anyone in the halls as he walked - most were probably at Sideswipe's ridiculous party. He could faintly hear music pounding from the direction of the rec. room.

The minute he stepped foot outside the building, he relaxed. There was something about standing under the smoky sky and letting the air clear out stuffy intakes that soothed Prowl. He made his way over to a bench and sat heavily. The tension bled out of his frame as he looked up at the stars, realising for the first time how tired and overworked his processor felt.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but he eventually became aware of something. The feeling he was being watched came over him, and his spinal struts started to tingle.

"Hello?" He called, scanning for spark signatures. The scan told him there was no one there, but instinct told him not to let his guard down. They could be using some kind of shield, or signature distorter. "Show yourself."

Still nothing.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to relax anymore, Prowl stood from the bench and prepared to return inside.

"Leavin' already?"

Prowl whirled around. His finger twitched as he went to reach for his blaster, only to realise that he had left it in his office. "Jazz."

The silver Decepticon tilted his head. "Ah, ya figured it out."

Prowl said nothing, simply taking in the mech. His battle computer went wild, screaming all sorts of statistics and plans.

Jazz hummed, jumping down from the metal beam he had been perched on. "How?"

"How what?" Prowl asked cautiously.

"How did ya find out who Ah was?"

Prowl straightened. "We obtained some Decepticon intel."

"Huh." Jazz hopped onto the bench Prowl had vacated and sprawled across it. Even when sprawled, he looked sinfully graceful and dangerous. "Ah had hoped it'd be more dramatic than that."

"Why are you here?"

"To see ya, o' course." Jazz's visor flashed. "Ah told ya, you fascinate meh."

"This was dangerous, even for you. Are you planning to steal Autobot intelligence?"

"Can't steal what don't exist." Jazz said mockingly.

"To kill me?"

Jazz perked up. "Now why would ya think that?"

"Because you are a Decepticon."

Jazz wrinkled his olfactory sensor. "Labels. Ah may wear the badge, but that don't mean Ah follow mindlessly. Ah'm mah own mech."

Every ounce of tension that had left Prowl's body had returned tenfold. His battle computer couldn't comprehend why this high ranking Decepticon would come to the Iaconian Autobot base, invariably placing himself in danger, and then lounge around as though he had been there his whole life. And all, apparently, to see Prowl. "I do not understand why you are here."

Jazz stretched leisurely, like a cat. "Ah told ya. Ah'm here ta-"

"No, I mean why are you really here?"

Jazz's visor flashed at being interrupted. He offered Prowl a predatory grin, standing fluidly and stalking towards the tactician. He invaded the tacticians space until Prowl was forced to retreat into a wall. Grinning, Jazz caged Prowl in with his arms and leaned in close so that their nasal ridges brushed off each other. "Sometimes, a certain bot catches my fancy. We interface, Ah kill them, and then Ah move on. You, cutie pie, happen to have caught my fancy."

Prowl frowned at the uncomfortable proximity. "So I simply will not interface with you, and all will be well."

Jazz threw back his head and laughed. "Ah like you." He grinned, his face returning to its extremely close position. "Ah think ya will interface with meh, Prowl. Not today, maybe. But ya will. It'll be a real shame ta have ta kill ya, but Ah can't have anyone developin' emotional ties, ya know?"

Prowl stared dispassionately at him. "Killing seems to be one way to loosen emotional ties."

Jazz grinned and leaned closer. Their olfactory sensors were firmly pressed together now. "It sure is. Ah'm sure ya'll enjoy it. Everyone else did."

"I am not 'everyone else'." Prowl pointed out with a hint of irritation.

"Oh, Ah know. That's why ya interest meh. But Ah think your li'l Praxian friend is right. Ya need more social contact. Not necessarily with anyone else other than meh, of course."

Prowl's frown deepened. "How long have you been spying on me?"

"Spying? Nah, Ah'd call it 'observing'. And since Ah met ya, pretty much. You're a very straightforward bot, cutie pie. Ya stick to a schedule. Makes it easy ta follow ya."

"How have you been here for a week without being detected?" Prowl asked, avoiding thinking about how one of the most dangerous Decepticons had just called him 'cutie pie' lest his processor crashed.

Jazz snickered. "Ah ain't head o' Special Ops for mah good looks. Although it might have helped."

Prowl hated to admit it, but Jazz was exceptionally good looking. "It seems your position was well deserved."

Jazz paused, seeming honestly surprised and taken aback at receiving a sincere compliment.

Prowl noticed, and raised an optic ridge. "You don't get complimented often?"

"That hardly matters." Jazz snarled, pressing painfully into Prowl's side, where a main energon line was located.

"I simply think it strange you do not get complimented all the time." Prowl said quickly.

Jazz paused, before giving him a grin like sugar. "Aw! You're so sweet!"

Prowl made a mental note to be cautious around the clearly unstable mech.

"Prowl? Are you out here? I just - oh! Am I interrupting something?"

Prowl's head whipped around to see Bluestreak pausing in the entrance to the garden. He had a moment of panic: He couldn't let Bluestreak come to harm.

The younger Praxian smiled politely at Jazz. "Who are you?"

Prowl couldn't figure out why Bluestreak wasn't fleeing in terror until he looked back to Jazz. The glowing red visor had turned a cerulean blue - Autobot blue. His Decepticon spark signature was still hidden, but Bluestreak wasn't looking for a spark signature.

The Decepticon smiled at Bluestreak and said the first name that popped into his head. "Ah'm Rumble. Me an' Prowl were just talkin'."

Bluestreak glanced at them: their bodies were practically entwined together. "Right. Well.. Uh.. I hate to interrupt. Go back to talking. I was just going to tell Prowl that I wasn't going to be at the party anymore, if he came looking."

Prowl noticed something about the gunners demeanour. "Where will you be?"

Bluestreak hesitated. "Sideswipe and Sunstreaker invited me back to their quarters-"

"No." Prowl said immediately.

Bluestreak's face fell. "Aw, Prowl. Please? We're not going to DO anything."

Prowl's optics narrowed. "You think the twins invited you back to their quarters after a party so they can do nothing with you?"

Jazz watched the entire exchange with an air of total amusement. He hadn't expected Prowl to be so protective of his fellow Praxian, and yet here he was, acting as if Jazz didn't exist. That thought made the saboteur frown - Prowl's attention should have been focused on him. And yet he couldn't help but be amused at the tension in Prowl's frame as he glared at Bluestreak.

Bluestreak scowled. "So you can be out here and do whatever the Pit you want with Rumble against the wall, but I can't go to my friends quarters?!"

Prowl allowed a growl to escape him. "Bluestreak!"

Bluestreak scowled and looked away. "Spectrum is looking for you. He probably wants to interface with you too. I bet he'd let me go to Sides'n'Sunny's.." Bluestreak grumbled as he walked off.

As much as Prowl felt the need to sternly reprimand the younger Praxian for his disrespectful behaviour, Prowl was glad Bluestreak was out of harms way. He still felt the need to let Jazz know that he didn't usually allow his troops to speak that way to him. "Bluestreak never acts like that. Please excuse him."

Jazz let out a laugh and shook his head. "A very dangerous Decepticon has you pinned up against the wall, and you're apologisin' for the behaviour of a youngling."

Prowl frowned, realising that his reaction was indeed illogical.

"Who's Spectrum?" Jazz leaned in close suddenly, giving off an aura of territoriality.

Prowl frowned. "Head of Special Operations."

Jazz laughed a little. "So Ah'm in competition with my Autobot counterpart. Ironic."

"Competition?" Prowl asked, failing to understand.

Jazz grinned, finally allowing his blue visor to darken back to blood red. "Yeah. Didn't li'l Bluestreak just say that this Spectrum is after your affections?"

"I must have missed that part." Prowl said dryly. "Blue suits you better than red."

Jazz grinned and tapped his visor. "Really? Ah think blue makes meh look washed out."

"I don't think so."

Jazz snickered. "Thanks. Ya know that li'l Bluestreak is gonna go an' stay with them twins anyway, right?"

Prowl frowned. "What? I gave him orders not to."

Jazz laughed. "He's young. He'll ignore them." Jazz's leg lifted and brushed against Prowl's, earning him a scowl from the tactician.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Stop provocatively rubbing your leg off mine."

Jazz grinned and leaned in so that their foreheads were touching. "You have such a way with words."

"I am glad I impress you." Prowl said stiffly. "Please retain some space between us."

Jazz leaned in so his mouth was level with Prowl's audio. "But where's the fun in personal space?" He whispered, grinning at the small shiver his voice elicited from the stoic tactician.

"I believe," Prowl said stiffly, "that it is time for me to go to berth."

"Lead the way." Jazz grinned.

Prowl glared. "On my own."

Jazz pouted playfully. "Darn. Guess Ah'll have ta wait for another time, huh?"

Prowl said nothing as he pushed on Jazz's chassis. Jazz laughed and stepped back to allow Prowl room to move. As the tactician moved away and made for the entrance of the building, he said "You should leave now."

"Ya don't really want me to, though."

Prowl stared at him. Clearly, this mech was delusional. "Yes, I do. Otherwise, I would not have said it."

Jazz grinned and sauntered after him as Prowl turned and walked inside. "Ah ain't gonna leave, ya know. That would be like admittin' defeat. And Ah've never been defeated." The saboteur said, easily falling into step beside Prowl.

"You cannot stay here forever." Prowl pointed out stiffly.

"No, Ah can't. But Ah can stay here 'till Megatron calls meh back."

Prowl scowled internally, but let no emotion show up on his face. "Where exactly do you plan to stay?"

"Your quarters?" Jazz suggested, grinning.

"No."

Jazz laughed at the blunt answer. "Didn't think so. Don't worry, Ah'll find somewhere."

"And how do you know that I will not simply tell the others that you are here?"

Jazz tilted his head and smiled. "Ya didn't tell 'em it was me that helped ya."

Prowl paused. "No, I didn't."

"Well then." Jazz said simply, as if that was the answer to all Prowl's questions.

Prowl frowned to himself as his battle computer went into overdrive. He couldn't lead Jazz back to his quarters - that would be suicide. The Decepticon could easily kill him in his recharge.

Jazz seemed to read his mind. "Ah've already been in your room. Ah know where it is."

That was one thing off Prowl's mind. He turned to frown again at the Decepticon. "What will it take to make you leave? You want me to interface with you?" Prowl knew that putting himself in such a vulnerable position with a Decepticon was life threatening and unbecoming of a senior officer, but he would do it if it meant getting Jazz to leave.

Jazz turned and met Prowl's stare through his visor. "No." He said simply.

Prowl faltered for a moment. "No? But you said-"

"Ah know what Ah said." Jazz interrupted as the reached Prowl's door.

Prowl didn't enter the code, he just frowned at Jazz. The Decepticon sighed impatiently and reached out to the control panel - Prowl watched as he successfully hacked into the system and opened his door.

Jazz looked around as he walked into Prowl's quarters, nodding as he went. It was how he had imagined it - wholly blank. There were no personal effects at all. It didn't even look like it was lived in. "Surely you ain't disappointed that Ah'm not gonna frag ya tonight?"

"Of course I am not." Prowl bristled. "I am simply looking for the most effective ways to get you to leave."

"Ah'm not leavin' 'till Ah get what Ah want." Jazz said as he stretched out on Prowl's berth.

"And that is?"

Jazz grinned and tapped his nasal ridge secretively. "Hush now. Time for recharge."

"Get off my berth."

"Why?" Jazz pretended to look surprised. "There's plenty'a room for both of us!"

"I just met you."

"Untrue. Ya met meh a week ago."

"We do not know each other."

"Ah know ya quite well. Ah looked through your file after Ah first met ya and Ah've been watchin' ya for a week. Ah think it feels like we've know each other for ages."

Prowl was quiet for a moment, because he almost agreed with Jazz. It did feel like they had known each other for ages. "We are not sleeping in the same berth."

"Fine. You can sleep on the couch."

Prowl actually sputtered in outrage. Emotionless, stoic Prowl sputtered. Jazz grinned at the refreshing sight. "It is MY berth!"

Jazz stretched out leisurely, draping his frame over the berth in an extremely provocative way. Prowl did his best to glare rather than stare. "C'mon, cutie pie. Ah swear Ah won't hurt ya in the middle o' the night. Ah wouldn't do that."

Prowl was now having a hard time not staring at Jazz's attractive frame. "I don't trust you."

Jazz frowned behind his visor. It was rare that someone could hold up so long under his charm, and Prowl showed no outward signs of bending. "Fine. Sleep on the couch."

"Jazz-"

"Ah offered the berth and ya wouldn't take it!"

"Why don't YOU take the couch?!"

Jazz couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face as Prowl began to lose his patience. He had been observing the tactician for a week, and he had never come close to losing his cool, even when he was dealing with the two berserker twins. But now, with so little effort, Jazz was causing him to get angry. And Jazz found an Angry Prowl to be an Attractive Prowl. "'Cause Ah'm a guest, silly. It would be rude."

Prowl stared at Jazz as all sorts of social protocols began popping up in his processor. "Fine." He said stiffly, walking over to the couch and lying on it. "Good night."

"Nighty night." Jazz grinned from the berth.

Prowl's intakes slowed as he eventually fell into recharge. He wasn't a fool, of course. He kept his battle protocols online so that if Jazz attacked during the night, he would be ready. His battle computer showed Jazz at a less that 23.3% chance of attacking during the night, however.

Jazz watched from Prowl's berth as the tacticians optics went dark. When he was sure that Prowl was asleep, he got up and silently ghosted over to the couch in order to watch him.

He had been watching Prowl recharge every night for the last week - he had almost fallen into a routine. Grinning, he climbed onto the sofa and snuggled in beside Prowl. He waited for a moment for the Autobot to online his optics and shout at him, but he didn't awaken. So Jazz waited. He knew Prowl would wake up eventually, and he couldn't wait to see the tacticians reaction to being so close to the Decepticon during recharge.

He hadn't been planning to fall into recharge beside Prowl's warmth.


	3. Chapter 3

Prowl onlined his optics the next morning and jerked in surprise.

Jazz was recharging next to him on the couch, visor dark. Because the couch was slightly small compared to their frames, they were both huddled close. Surprisingly enough, the Decepticon was clutching at Prowl's chassis in his recharge.

The tactician had frozen, staring in shock. When had that even happened? An internal alarm went off, reminding him that he had reports to finish. Awkwardly, he shifted to get out from underneath Jazz's lithe body. He didn't know why he felt such reluctance to wake the Decepticon, but he decided to put it down to simply not wanting the smaller mech to follow him around everywhere. He couldn't help but be surprised that Jazz hadn't killed him during the night - promise or not.

Jazz remained offline; he didn't even notice when Prowl slipped out of the room. After a while, he began to slowly reboot, and shifted slightly. He blinked his optics in surprise when he realised no one was next to him. He had long ago installed a program to make sure he could online quickly and efficiently with little to no confusion or haziness that onlining after recharge usually brought, but he was still confused as he looked around.

Jazz realised abruptly that it was Prowl he was missing, and scowled behind his visor. He had missed the chance to see Prowl's face when he onlined.

Stretching like a cat, Jazz cast a look around the disgustingly organised room. Humming softly, he prowled around and casually picked up datapads and other utilitarian objects and placing them in various places around the room, knowing that it would irritate Prowl. He had observed the tactician intently enough to notice simple things, like the fact that he relied on order and discipline to feel in control. It was other things the saboteur couldn't figure out; more complicated things. Like why the Autobot wasn't afraid of him when everyone else was. It bothered him, to some degree. That was why he was so fixated on cracking him.

After Jazz had mixed up enough of Prowl's quarters to successfully give the Autobot a processor ache, he casually headed out the door. There was no one in the corridor to see him slip out of Prowl's room, thankfully, but he remained silent as he crept down the corridors of the base. It seemed that he had woken up right in the middle of a work shift, so no one seemed to be around to see him. Even if there had been bots around, Jazz was so good at his job that even in the busiest places he was adept at hiding himself in plain sight.

He made his way to Prowl's office with no problem - he had been going there every day for a week to resume watching the tactician.

Jazz strolled in cheerfully, grinning at Prowl. "Mornin'!"

Prowl stared from his desk as Jazz practically skipped over and draped himself over the spare chair. "Jazz." He greeted evenly. "I was hoping you would have returned to Kaon."

"But then Ah wouldn't be able ta see you everyday." Came the perfectly innocent reply.

That statement was ignored as Prowl continued. "You are staying?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You might as well defect."

Jazz laughed easily. "No thank you. Ah'm quite happy as a sadistic, evil killer with no empathy."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Are you telling me that is what you are?"

"Yup."

"I do not think that's true."

"Think what you like." Jazz's visor glinted threateningly. "Ah've killed lots o' your comrades. Lots o' mine, too."

"I have no doubt of that."

"Then why aren't ya scared?" Jazz looked honestly confused and a little frustrated.

"You have not yet given me a reason to be." Prowl said smoothly, looking back down to his datapad.

Sitting more stiffly now than he had been, Jazz asked "Should I?"

"I would rather you didn't." Prowl answered dryly. "Now I need you to leave. I have called Bluestreak to my office."

"Why?"

"Because I must discuss with him last night and how he blatantly went against my orders." Said Prowl stiffly, glaring at the saboteur as he drummed his fingers on the desk.

Jazz couldn't hold back a grin. "So he went with the twins?"

"Yes." Prowl growled darkly. "Despite me expressly telling him not to. Do you know Sideswipe and Sunstreaker?"

"As it happens, Ah do." Jazz grinned sneakily. As Prowl tensed, Jazz seemed to read his mind. "They ain't Decepticon spies. Ah knew them back in Kaon."

Prowl glanced up in mild surprise. "Is that so? I didn't know you were from Kaon."

Jazz snorted. "That's 'cause Ah'm not. Ah moved around plenty."

Prowl raised an optic ridge again, but before he could enquire further into Jazz's life, there was a knock on his door. He turned to tell Jazz to get out, only to find that the Decepticon was already gone. He stared at the empty chair for a moment, slightly unnerved by how quickly the saboteur had disappeared. The knock came again, forcing Prowl to pull his wits together. "Yes, come in."

The door slid open and Bluestreak shuffled in sheepishly. "Hello Prowl, sir."

"Sit down, Bluestreak." Prowl gestured to the chair in front of his desk - the one Jazz had been draped over. He wiped his face of emotion and watched as Bluestreak sat down.

The younger Praxian twiddled his thumbs nervously. "Um.. About last night, sir.. I had a bit too much high grade, and I most certainly never meant to come across as rebellious, I just didn't realise what I was doing. And I know you warned me about the twins, but I was overcharged and they were actually very kind and-"

"Bluestreak."

"They didn't do anything I didn't want them to do-"

"Bluestr-"

"-and they were very gentle lovers and I-"

"Bluestreak!"

In the silence that followed, a smooth laugh trickled to Prowl's audios.

Bluestreak blinked and looked around the room. "D-did you hear that?"

"I've heard enough." Prowl said stiffly, "More than enough, in fact."

Face flushed, Bluestreak smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

Prowl had to resist the urge to glare around the room. "No matter. You still disobeyed orders."

"Yes, sir. I'm aware." Bluestreak said nervously. "But I would like to say that I was overcharged."

With a sigh, Prowl glanced down at his clasped hands. "Very well. This is your first offence... Could you at least give me your word that you will not disrespect my orders in such a way again?"

"Yes, of course." Bluestreak nodded quickly. "I promise."

Prowl nodded. "Good."

"Um.. How was last night for you?"

"It was fine." He said with a frown.

Bluestreak nodded slowly, grinning.

It was clear from Prowl's nonplussed expression that he had no idea what was happening.

"So... Rumble. I've never seen him around the base before."

Confused for a moment, Prowl blinked before he remembered the alias Jazz had used. "Ah. Yes. He.. keeps to himself."

It was Bluestreak's turn to blink in confusion. "It.. it didn't look like he was keeping to himself, sir."

Prowl scowled. "I am perfectly aware of what it looked like, Bluestreak."

"Oh, good. Because it really looked as if you were going to interface with him. I mean, it would have been okay if you did, because I did say that you had to be more social, I just didn't expect you to find someone so quickly-"

"Bluestreak." Prowl spread his fingers across his face. "Stop talking. We did not interface."

Bluestreak flushed. "Oh. Sorry. It's just- it looked like you were going to-"

"Yes, I know." Prowl grumbled.

"Oh. Well, I'd like to meet him. He seemed nice. Are you going to see him again?"

"I very much doubt he will leave me alone." Prowl muttered.

Another deep, smooth chuckle could be heard faintly. Bluestreak frowned and glanced around. "I definitely heard something."

Prowl's battle computer told him that there was an 87.98% chance of Jazz being hidden in the vent above his desk, so that was where he shot a glare. "I heard nothing. Have you had your audios checked recently?"

"No.."

"Perhaps you should."

Bluestreak nodded. "Right. Yeah."

"Perhaps you should do it now."

"Oh. Okay." Bluestreak stood up and walked to the door, before glancing back and smiling. "So.. We're good?"

"Yes." came the tired reply. "We are good."

Bluestreak nodded and slipped out the door. The moment he was gone, Prowl looked around. "Jazz?"

"Miss me?"

Prowl jumped and stared up in surprise. The Decepticon had been balancing on one of the metal beams holding the ceiling steady. "Jazz! If Bluestreak had looked up-"

"He wouldn't have seen me." Jazz waved a hand airily, before jumping to the ground gracefully.

"You'll have to get back up there in a moment." Prowl muttered, glancing down at his report. He couldn't help but feel irritated that he had been wrong about where Jazz was hiding. The saboteur seemed to just keep surprising him.

"Why?" Jazz pouted.

"Because, I have a meeting with someone. You know, if you became an Autobot, you would not have to hide around the base."

Jazz snorted. "'Course Ah would. The Autobots wouldn't ever trust meh."

"Are you sure about that?"

Jazz narrowed his optics behind his visor. "Yeah, Ah am. You don't trust me, do ya?"

"That is because I met you properly for the first time yesterday. During that meeting, you informed me that you wanted to interface with me and then kill me."

"Yeah. Ah remember that."

"That is a little outside the social norm."

"Says you." Snorted Jazz.

"I believe I have good reason to be wary of you. You could easily be here simply to spy and send information back to the Decepticons." Prowl said defensively.

"Ya wound meh, Prowlie." Jazz snickered. "Ah'm not here for the Decepticons, Ah'm here for myself."

"Prowl?" Someone called outside the door.

Glancing up at the sound of his name, Prowl motioned to Jazz. "Spectrum is here. Hide."

Jazz shot a scowl towards the door. "Why?"

"Hide."

Jazz huffed, "Fine. Ah don't like him."

"What? You don't know him." Prowl turned back to Jazz, only to find he was gone. He looked up and saw the saboteur reclined on the metal beam holding up the ceiling. The metal beams had been a precaution built into every building at the start of the war - they held up the buildings under attacks so that the roofs didn't collapse.

Jazz glanced down at him and shot him a grin. "You should answer the door."

Prowl cut his battle computer off as it struggled to figure out how Jazz had gotten up there so quickly. "Come in."

The door slid open to admit Spectrum, who nodded respectfully at Prowl. "Good orn."

Prowl cleared his vocaliser and gestured to the chair. "Sit down, please." Spectrum slid into the chair and waited for Prowl to continue. "Have you your report finished on the rescue mission? I have not yet received it."

"Almost. Some details are still a bit confused, however."

"Such as?" Prowl raised an optic ridge.

"Well, such as the identity of the Decepticon who assisted you in Kaon."

"That is irrelevant."

Spectrum frowned. "Irrelevant? Actually, I believe it is quite important."

Scowling internally as Jazz's deep chuckle reached his audios, Prowl forced himself to keep his face carefully blank. "Well, perhaps one day we will find out."

Spectrum had tensed. "Was that a laugh?"

"No. I have not had energon this morning, I believe it was my tanks."

With a frown, Spectrum shook his head. "Prowl, I'm a Special Ops mech. I know what I heard."

Prowl nodded. "It was my tanks." He repeated, internally contemplating beating Jazz with a datapad when the saboteur came down from the ceiling.

"...I see." Spectrum narrowed his optics. "Well anyway, certain parts of the report require the identify of the Decepticon in order to be fully accurate."

Prowl pinched his nasal ridge. "Yes, I understand that."

"Do you know the identity?"

"No." He almost winced at the lie, but managed to force it out with no expression.

His lie must have been quite believable, as Spectrum sighed and nodded with no further argument. "Okay. Well.. In that case, my report will be on your desk next shift."

"Good." Prowl murmured, marking something down on a datapad. "That will be all."

Spectrum stood up, but hesitated before leaving. "I don't suppose you'd want to come for energon with me? Because you missed your morning cube?"

The answer would have been no anyway, but considering Jazz was hanging from the ceiling and needed to be controlled, it made Prowl even more adamant to stay. "I have a lot of work to do, Spectrum."

"Another time, then." After a look of brief disappointment, Spectrum pursed his lips and nodded.

"Maybe." Prowl said as the Special Ops mech left the room.

The minute the door closed behind him, Jazz dropped from the ceiling and landed directly behind Prowl's chair. "Ah didn' like him."

"Perhaps you should return to the Decepticons."

"Nah, Ah ain't goin' back."

"And why not?"

Jazz rolled his optics behind his visor. "Haven't we already been through this? The Decepticons don't have you."

Prowl snorted, the first show of humour Jazz had properly seen from him. "That is true."

Grinning, Jazz stepped around the chair and pulled himself up to sit on Prowl's desk. "Maybe Ah'll go back eventually."

"I should really put you in the brig." Prowl said with a thoughtful frown.

Jazz laughed. "Ya say that as if ya think you could catch me."

Prowl raised an optic ridge, but didn't rise to the challenge. "I wouldn't be fulfilling my duties as an Autobot if I were to let you run rampant around the base where sensitive information is kept."

Jazz stretched languorously on top of the desk. "Hmm.. As temptin' as all o' that sounds, you're gonna have to take my word that Ah won't."

"I should report you to my superiors."

Jazz snickered. "Should ya? How're ya gonna explain to them why ya didn't report meh yesterday? Or how ya let meh sleep on your couch with ya last night?"

"I do not know." The tactician admitted, leaning back in his chair and frowning.

Jazz grinned. "You're smart. Ah'm sure ya'll figure it out."

Prowl sighed and rubbed his helm. His battle computer was working so hard to figure out how he could explain the situation to Optimus that it was causing a sharp pain in his processor "I'm sure I will."

A small frown turned the corners of Jazz's mouth down. "Your head botherin' ya?"

"No, I am fine." Prowl said stiffly.

"Whatever." The yawned reply was punctuated by Jazz leaning back and lying across the entire surface of Prowl's desk, crushing at least four datapads.

"Will you please get off my desk?" Prowl asked irritably, lifting his hand away from his face.

Jazz twisted in a way that displayed his attractive frame perfectly. "Why, am Ah distractin' ya?"

"You are in the way of my reports."

With a grin, Jazz swung his legs off the desk, narrowly missing Prowl's thighs. "Do ya want meh to go?"

"Yes." Prowl said shortly.

Jazz pouted, pulling a hurt expression. "If ya insist, cutie."

The black and white bot huffed and looked up to scowl severely at Jazz, only to see that the Decepticon had disappeared again.

...

"Ah got ya energon!" The peaceful silence of Prowl's office was broken as the door slid open to admit Jazz.

The saboteur skipped over to the desk and set it down right in front of Prowl, who frowned mistrustfully at it. "Did you put anything in it?"

The laugh that issued from Jazz's mouth was sincere and cheerful, as if he would never dream of doing such a thing. "Prowler, why on Cybertron would Ah do that?"

After a long moment of regarding the energon suspiciously, Prowl picked the cube up and took a sip of it. It tasted perfectly normal. "Hm. Thank you."

Jazz grinned and hopped up on Prowl's desk, "No problem!"

There was a brief moment where it looked like Prowl was going to glitch as Jazz's aft pushed several important datapads to the floor. Thankfully, the moment passed and the tactician knelt swiftly to pick the datapads off the floor. "I implore you to stop knocking my reports to the floor. Elita One asked me yesterday why so many of my datapads had cracked screens."

Jazz giggled unashamedly. "Ah know, Ah was listenin' in behind ya. Ya blamed the twins."

"Rather unprofessional of me, but they have been causing a bit of a stir lately with their pranks and shenanigans, so I thought that the excuse was quite plausible." Prowl glanced up for a moment, and blinked when he saw that Jazz was gaping at him. "What?"

"Did you just use the word 'shenanigans' in a serious sentence?"

"Yes." Prowl frowned, looking slightly put-out. "I fail to see the problem."

The only response was a light snort as Jazz lay back on the desk, purposely taking up all the space he could so that Prowl would find it just that much harder to work. "It's gettin' late."

It was such an obvious statement that Prowl didn't even deign to reply. He simply continued working on his report.

"Prowler?"

"Prowl."

"Wha'?"

"My name is Prowl."

Jazz scowled at the correction. "Ah prefer Prowler. An' yo' name ain't the point. Ah'm tired, an' Ah want to go to berth."

"I am not stopping you."

An annoyed huff of air escaped Jazz's vents as he sat up. "Ah need ya to come with me. Ah ain't goin' on my own."

If Jazz had been anyone else, Prowl would have argued. He would have used his superior, logical processor to engage in a battle of wits that he would surely win. He would have remained stubborn, and pointblank refused to leave.

The problem was that Jazz was just as stubborn as he was. Jazz simply defied logic - there was no way he would have been won over by any logical argument from Prowl.

"Very well." Prowl stood, knowing when he was defeated. "I sincerely hope that you will allow me to sleep in my own berth tonight."

Jazz snickered as he hopped off the desk and stalked towards the door. "Hey mech, Ah ain't stoppin' ya." He paused before opening the door and turned around to face Prowl. "Race ya back to your room."

"That is immature."

"Ah am immature. That's why Ah'm so fun. So, ya game?"

There was a brief hesitation as Prowl thought for a moment, before nodding once. "Very well. But you know that you must-"

The tactician had practically drilled the words into him, and Jazz found himself unconsciously rolling his optics behind his visor. "Stay outta sight and not be seen by anyone in case mah identity is discovered, yeah yeah."

Prowl nodded once, before glancing back to his reports. He looked almost wistful. A small noise drew his attention back to Jazz, only to find that the saboteur had disappeared. "That is becoming irritating." Prowl muttered as he exited his office.

The work shift had ended a while ago, so the only mechs he encountered in the hallways were mechs who were on their way to or from the rec. room with their friends. Most didn't acknowledge him, so Prowl returned the favour. Prowl knew long before he reached his quarters that Jazz had gotten there first. If the Decepticon hadn't been certain he would win the 'race', he wouldn't have challenged Prowl.

Naturally, when Prowl reached his quarters and entered, the Decepticon saboteur was sprawled out on his berth. "'Bout time. Ah thought you'd gotten lost."

"You cheated." Prowl stated, making his way over to the berth. He didn't sit or lie down; he simply stood and watched as Jazz stretched.

"Only a li'l bit. It ain't fun if ya don't cheat." A sharp smile was shot in Prowl's direction. "Ah'm tired. Ah'm gonna recharge."

"Very well. Have a good recharge." Bowing his head, Prowl made to move away.

Jazz's hand shot out and caught Prowl's arm. "Whoa! Where're ya goin'?"

As Prowl gestured to the couch, he didn't remove his gaze from Jazz. "I will be taking the couch again."

"Sleep here." Jazz moved to make room on the berth.

"You are sleeping there."

"So?"

Despite the fact that Jazz had stubbornly slept next to him every night so far (no matter where he slept), Prowl was still reluctant to leave himself so vulnerable to a Decepticon. His battle computer was practically screaming at him not to be so stupid.

But Autobots trusted others, right? That was what separated the two factions. Well, that among other things. Prowl had no doubt that Optimus would allow benefit of the doubt.

"Very well." He said at last, manoeuvring onto the berth in a way that ensured he was on the opposite side of it to Jazz.

The moment Prowl had settled Jazz moved closer, carefully invading the other's personal space. The bigger mech frowned and inched away to try and put some distance between them. Jazz simply edged closer.

Prowl eventually gave up on trying to avoid Jazz, and they ended up falling into recharge with Prowl half-hanging off the edge of the berth and the exceptionally persistent Decepticon snuggled into his back.


	4. Chapter 4

It was ridiculously easy to keep Jazz hidden from the other Autobots. All the saboteur had to do was wear a signal dampener and hide. It was enough for Prowl to seriously consider upping security measures in case another Decepticon broke in.

Over a short space of time, Prowl had grown accustomed to having Jazz in his office while he did his reports. The saboteur was selfish, narcissistic and had sadistic tendencies, but no one was perfect. Plus, he was actually good company.

"What're ya doin' now?" Jazz asked from the beams in the ceiling as Prowl picked up another datapad.

"Reading through Inferno's report on proper fire safety in case of an emergency." The tactician answered as he turned the datapad on.

"No." Jazz swung himself down from his perch, landing lightly on his feet. "Nuh uh. You're kiddin'."

"No, I am not." Prowl didn't even glance up.

Jazz plucked the datapad out of the tacticians hands. "No. You've been workin' all day."

Prowl shot him an irritated look and made a grab at the report. "That is the point of a job."

The datapad was whipped out of reach. "You're overdoin' it. It's time to get out o' your office."

Resigning himself to the loss of his datapad, Prowl scowled and sat back. "And where would you suggest we go, exactly?"

"Ah wasn't suggestin' me to go anywhere with ya, but if you're invitin' me, Ah'll come." Jazz shrugged, grinning.

"You are a Decepticon in an Autobot base." Prowl reminded him, staring pointedly at Jazz's dark red visor and purple badges.

"Labels!" The dramatic sigh was punctuated by a wave of Jazz's clawed hands.

Prowl watched in silent curiosity as the red in Jazz's visor bled out and lightened to blue. "Interesting." He said quietly as the purple Decepticon insignias adorning Jazz disappeared entirely.

"Ah know, Ah'm that good." Jazz shrugged, stretching his arms over his head. "C'mon, let's go!"

With a sigh of defeat Prowl stood up, allowing himself to be dragged out of his office. "Where are we going?"

"Rec. room." Jazz replied easily.

Prowl glanced at him with a frown. "How do you know where the rec. room is?"

"Ah went explorin' during the night."

"Which night?"

"Does it matter?" Jazz rolled his optics behind his visor as he pulled the tactician down the hall.

"Yes! I should have noticed you leaving." Prowl pointed out. Jazz had insisted on sleeping in the same berth every night. It was rather awkward; Prowl struggled to stay on the very far side of the berth away from Jazz, but the Decepticon had a habit of rolling over and snuggling into him during the night.

Jazz shrugged. "Ya were rechargin'."

"Still." Prowl muttered as they reached the door of the rec. room. "I should have noticed."

"Don't beat yourself up about it." Jazz said cheerfully as they walked in. "Ah've done lots'a things ya should'a noticed but didn't."

Prowl didn't dare to ask what kind of things. "I don't think this is a good idea." He said uneasily, glancing around the crowded room. "What if someone recognises you?"

"Who's gonna recognise meh?" was the careless reply.

"You said you knew the twins."

Jazz hesitated. "Oh. Well, Ah doubt they'd remember me." He shrugged calmly. Before Prowl could argue again, Jazz clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Ah'm gonna get some energon."

Prowl sighed as Jazz turned and disappeared into the crowd. Barely moments after the Decepticon-in-disguise had left, strong arms circled his shoulders and dragged him off to the corner of the room. "What are-" Prowl broke off and glared when he recognised Sideswipe, one of the Twin recruits from Kaon. "Unhand me."

The red frontliner obediently let go, grinning widely. "Sorry. Hey, Blue told me you didn't leave your office much."

"And?"

"Well, it's weird to see you now. Y'know, I was planning a party later-"

"No." Prowl said shortly.

"It's cool, I already got permission from Prime." Sideswipe said cheerfully. "He thinks it'd be good for the morale."

Prowl resisted the urge to scowl. "You had a party barely three weeks ago."

"It was almost a month ago. That is a LONG time. It'll be fun! You can bring your berth buddy that Blue's been telling us about."

"I have no idea who you are talking about."

Of course, Jazz chose exactly that moment to materialise next to them with two cubes of energon. "Hey, cutie pie. Ah got ya your energon." He said cheerfully.

There was a long pause before Prowl sighed in defeat, reluctantly taking the cube he was handed. "Thank you." He said grudgingly.

Jazz grinned and nodded, before focusing his visored gaze on Sideswipe. "Hi there. You are?"

Prowl had tensed, watching as Sideswipe eyed Jazz up. "Sideswipe. I'm guessing you're Rumble?"

A roguish grin crossed Jazz's face. "That's me."

Prowl allowed himself a moment to marvel at how easily Jazz lied. His temporarily blue visor held nothing but sincerity and friendliness. The tactician tilted his head slightly, noticing something different about Jazz, but unable to pinpoint what. After a second, he realised that Jazz had an Autobot energy signature. He paused, wondering how the Decepticon had managed that.

Sideswipe had tilted his head too. "You... look really familiar.."

"Ah get that all the time." Jazz grinned and shrugged easily.

Sideswipe nodded uncertainly. "Right.. Well anyway, I was just telling Prowl about the party tonight."

"Party?" Jazz perked up.

"Yeah! Maybe you can convince him to come."

Jazz turned his grin on Prowl. "It sounds fun!"

"No, it does not." Prowl groused.

"We'll come." chirped Jazz, smiling in delight.

Prowl shot the saboteur an incredulous look as Sideswipe nodded. "Awesome. See you later then."

The minute the red warrior was out of earshot Prowl rounded on Jazz. "Are you insane?"

"Yep."

"You will not be able to trick people into thinking you are an Autobot! People will become suspicious - no one has ever seen you before. Prime himself will be there!"

Jazz didn't look bothered by any of this as he took a careful sip of his energon. "Calm down, Prowlie. It'll be fine."

Prowl clenched his fists. "You cannot continue this charade!"

After a moment, Jazz tilted his head and lowered his energon from his face. "Well, Ah thought it'd be fun 'cause this is mah last night here."

Prowl paused, blinking. "What?"

Jazz shifted, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Megatron called meh back."

Prowl blinked again, his logic processor stalling. "I don't.. What?"

"It's what ya wanted, right? Ah'm sure Ah'll be back to annoy ya soon, but for now Ah have to go."

"You are.. leaving."

"Yeah."

Prowl stared blankly, before finally seeming to get a hold of himself. "What happened to you being a free mech who was not controlled by anyone?"

Jazz rolled his shoulders and looked around the room, carefully avoiding optic contact with the Praxian in front of him. "Ah am a free mech. But ignorin' Megatron when he calls ya back personally is suicide."

"I see." Prowl had grown so accustomed to Jazz's simple presence that the absence of it seemed implausible, however illogical that was.

"You're gonna miss meh."

"Hardly."

Jazz shot him a grin. "Ah know you. You're gonna miss meh."

"No, I am not."

"Who's gonna sit with ya when you're doin' your reports?"

"No one. I prefer to work alone." Usually that statement would be true, but he found that he actually worked faster when Jazz was there, urging him to hurry up and finish because he was bored.

"Who's gonna snuggle ya at night?"

Prowl glared at him. "That is one thing I will most certainly not miss."

"Ya say that, but you'll miss it." Jazz giggled.

Prowl shook his head. "This is ridiculous. I am going back to my quarters."

"What about the party?"

"You may go, if you wish. I have no desire to be in a room full of loud music and raucous, overcharged mechs."

Jazz shook his head. "Only you. Fine, Ah'll come too."

With a nod, Prowl turned on his heel and headed for the door, trusting Jazz to follow him. He could feel the unfamiliar, yet still familiar, Autobot spark signature trailing after him as he led the way down the corridor.

A couple of mechs stared at them as they passed, and Prowl had no doubt that rumours would be spreading all over the base now. Naturally, it didn't seem to bother Jazz as the saboteur waved cheerily at them. A few mechs waved back uncertainly, but a majority just looked away awkwardly.

"Hi there!" Jazz called out, waving to Mirage as they passed him.

The white spy looked Jazz up and down disdainfully, before glancing to Prowl. "Who is this?"

"No one." was the hurried reply as Prowl dragged Jazz away. Mirage watched suspiciously as the tactician dragged the new mech down the hall. The minute they were out of Mirage's line of sight, Prowl glared. "What are you doing? You are meant to be discreet!"

"They ain't gonna notice meh, Prowler."

As they reached Prowl's quarters, the Praxian keyed in the code and glared at Jazz simultaneously. "Mirage was the one who obtained the information on you from the Decepticon base in Kaon."

The door had barely opened fully before Jazz was bouncing in and jumping onto Prowl's berth. "Ah deleted that file the day after Ah firs' came here."

"Of course you did." Prowl followed Jazz inside his quarters and sat on the edge of his berth.

Pointedly ignoring the distance that Prowl was obviously trying to keep between them, Jazz scooted closer and laid his head in Prowl's lap. "Admit you're gonna miss meh."

"No."

"Don't be stubborn."

This statement was so absurd considering the mech it had come from that Prowl let out an undignified snort. "Don't be a hypocrite."

"You're gonna miss meh." Jazz decided, removing his head from Prowl's lap and rolling so he was lying on his back. "Ah'm gonna miss you. And this berth. Pit, this is a comfortable berth."

Another snort left Prowl, but it was much more quiet and dignified. "Decepticon berths aren't as comfortable?"

"Nope."

"All the more reason to defect."

"Ha!" An explosive burst of laughter left Jazz's vocaliser. "Defect 'cause of a comfy berth?"

"It seems like the kind of thing you would do."

A comfortable, amused silence fell over them both as Prowl lay back on the berth next to Jazz. For once, Jazz didn't try to close any distance between them; there was a big enough gap between them that they were very close, yet not touching. "It does, doesn't it." Jazz said suddenly, sounding thoughtful.

"I'm sorry?"

"Seems like somethin' Ah'd do." Jazz's red visor glinted, giving him a slightly insane look.

Slightly confused, Prowl decided to change the subject. "Why does Megatron want you back?"

"Decepticon secrets, Ah'm afraid." Thankfully, Jazz seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he had fallen into as his tone turned playful. "Maybe if ya defect, Ah'll tell ya."

"I am loyal to the Autobots." Turning his head to the side, Prowl met Jazz's visored stare dead-on.

"Ah'm loyal ta the Decepticons." Jazz returned, grinning insanely.

"The fact that you have stayed several weeks with me here in the Autobot base suggest otherwise."

Even with the visor, it was clear to see that Jazz was conflicted. "Ah don't wanna talk 'bout it."

"Okay."

Jazz glanced up at Prowl, but glanced away quickly when he realised the tactician was already watching him. Prowl couldn't stop the small smile that curved his lips up when he realised that this was the first time he had seen Jazz as anything other than cocky and casual. He seemed shy.

"Ah wanna sleep."

The demand was met with another simple "Okay."

Shuffling closer to Prowl, Jazz laid his head on the tacticians chest. Instead of trying to move away as he usually did, Prowl stayed still.

"It will be strange without you."

Jazz glanced up. "Hm?"

"You asked me earlier if I would miss you. I am not sure if missing you would be entirely correct, but it will definitely be strange having you no longer here. I seem to have grown accustomed to your presence."

A grin split Jazz's face. "Aw cutie pie, Ah knew you'd miss meh!" With a shake of his head, Prowl closed his optics. Naturally, Jazz wouldn't leave him alone. "Hey, you rechargin'?"

"Attempting to."

With a giggle, Jazz started poking Prowl's faceplates. "You're gon' miss meh."

"Jazz." Prowl growled and grabbed at the Decepticon's hand. The saboteur giggled again and pulled the hand that Prowl was holding up to his face. Prowl's optics widened in surprise as Jazz kissed his hand. "Jazz!"

"Calm down, Prowler. Ah'm only teasin'." Jazz laughed.

With a little huff, Prowl offlined his optics again. Within moments, he was recharging.

...

Jazz left the next morning, before Prowl came online. It was once again stupidly easy to get passed the security perimeter of the Autobot base, and he was gone before anyone so much as noticed a blip on the scanners.

And now he was standing before Megatron, his visor back to a deep ruby colour, giving a brief (and completely false) account of his time at the Autobot base.

When he was finished, Megatron reclined his large, throne-line chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting... So you broke into the Iaconian base and spent several weeks there, yet you were never detected. Not even once."

Jazz bobbed his head easily. "Yep. Ah hacked into the database, but they ain't plannin' any attacks anytime soon. They're just scoutin' around Praxus an' Tyger Pax."

"Looking for recruits, no doubt." The huge tyrant rumbled, glaring. "You have done well, Jazz. You've earned your rest for working so hard. See that, Starscream? That is a reliable, hardworking Decepticon. Take notes."

Unable to stop himself from grinning cheerfully and giving the scowling Seeker a little wave, Jazz bowed his head. "Thank you, my Lord." If anyone had known Jazz better, they would have been able to detect the mocking undertone in his voice. As it was, everyone presumed he was a loyal little Decepticon like any other. Even the saboteur himself wasn't sure what he had to gain from lying to Megatron, other than eventually gaining Prowl's trust (among other things).

Exceptionally pleased with himself, Jazz practically bounced out the door. The report he had delivered to Megatron had been made up on the spot, and (in Jazz's opinion) was completely ridiculous. Obviously, it wasn't too far-fetched, as Megatron had swallowed it without a flicker of a doubt. But really, who in their right mind would believe that Jazz - one of the most active mechs around - spent several weeks hiding in the ventilation system in Iacon, remaining completely stationary except for the rare chance he got to steal information from the Autobot database? The boredom would have been horrendous.

Whistling softly as he headed down the corridors to his quarters, Jazz found his mind wandering back to Prowl. His thoughts had been on the Autobot tactician since the moment he had left the Autobot base. With every step he took, his mood darkened like a storm cloud until he was practically snarling when he reached his quarters.

The room was filled with souvenirs he had collected from missions (various body parts and the like), stuff he had stolen from fellow Decepticons' rooms, and lots and lots of weapons. But it still felt painfully empty.

Jazz swore angrily and stalked into the room as the door slammed closed behind him. The empty berth only served to infuriate him further, and he punched a hole straight through the wall.

The sound of his hand crunching was almost drowned out by the sound of the wall being ripped through. The pain of his crushed hand seemed to clear his head, however, and Jazz let out a deep ex-vent. After another moment of staring blankly at the new hole in the wall, he turned on his heel and left the room. The Decepticons he passed in the halls wisely avoided him, easily recognising that he was in one of his infamous moods.

Flexing his injured hand with a pained growl, Jazz stalked into the medbay. Hook glanced up from where he had been welding an open wound on a battered looking Starscream. "Jazz. What happened?"

As a way of explanation, Jazz simply held up his hand. He didn't even bother wondering how in the name of Primus had Starscream managed to get beaten up by Megatron and sent to the medbay so quickly.

Far too familiar with the injuries Jazz acquired when he was in his moods, Hook simply gestured to a spare berth and told him to wait.

Starscream sneered as the saboteur sat down two berths over. "What happened to slag you off this time? A Vehicon looked at you the wrong way?" The answering growl the Seeker recieved was enough to make him recoil slightly. The Decepticons were familiar enough with Jazz's bipolar tendencies that they weren't at all surprised when Jazz went from manically cheerful to murderously furious. They were also familiar enough to know exactly when to stop talking to avoid actually getting murdered.

Hook pushed Starscream lightly. "You're finished. How about you stop fragging insulting Lord Megatron? That way he won't feel the need to beat you. Jazz, sit here."

A small squeal escaped Starscream as Jazz brushed passed him so roughly that the winged mech was knocked over. The saboteur sat down and held out his hand to the medic, before fixing his scowl at the opposite wall.

Hook sighed as Starscream picked himself up, ranting under his breath as he stormed out of the medbay. "Tell me what happened."

As a rule, Jazz tried to be civil to medics, even in one of his anger swings. They were the ones who fixed you up when you got injured, after all. "Ah punched a wall."

Hook just nodded, and didn't question him any further. They were both silent as the medic worked on the shattered hand structure.

It took almost two hours before Jazz's ruined hand was repaired to working order. Finally, Hook sat back and frowned. "There. It will hurt for a while, but you're a big mech, I'm sure you can bear it. Do not injure it again. If you come to me again with self-inflicted injuries, I will deactivate you. I mean it. I have been lenient with you so far, but anger is not a good enough reason to expect me to fix a damaged frame."

"Got it." Jazz stood sharply and made to leave. He was halfway out the door before he thought to turn and call out a "thanks" over his shoulder.

His newly repaired hand throbbed slightly, but Jazz made the pain go away for a short while by causing the first grunt soldier to walk passed him such immense pain and agony that it drowned out any emotion Jazz may have been feeling. He got bored of the screaming quite quickly, however, and silenced the mech permanently with a sharp pull.

He returned to his quarters with a severed head, and quickly placed it amongst his other collected body parts from his past victims. Finally satisfied, he lay back on his berth. His thoughts turned to Prowl once again, but this time he didn't get angry.

Instead, he began to plan seeing him again.

After what seemed like hours of scheming, Jazz's mood brightened. Eventually, he hopped up off his berth and bounced out of the room, making a beeline straight for the rec. room.

Jazz would readily admit that the Autobot recreation room was much nicer than the small, shabby little room in the Decepticon base. But still, it was the one place Decepticons could relax in, so the poor condition of the room was ignored.

"Hey, mechs." Jazz called out a cheerful greeting as he stepped into the room.

Practically every conversation in the room stopped the moment Jazz's upbeat tone was recognised. "You're back." Rumble's voice broke the silence. The cassette was sitting next to Soundwave, who was reading through a datapad on the couch.

"Sure am." Jazz sang, bouncing over to them. "So, Sounders. Do ya have any plans? Ya know, t' invade any cities or anything? Anythin' comin' up soon?"

The tape deck paused and regarded Jazz warily. But even Soundwave was unwilling to anger the unstable Decepticon before him. "Affirmative. Planned invasion: Polyhex, in three days."

"Hm.. D'ya have the plan on a datapad?"

"Affirmative." Soundwave confirmed with a cautious nod.

Jazz shot him a charming grin. "Ah'm gonna need a copy."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, we get to see a bit of Jazz's past here! Yay! Hope you like it :)

There was a datapad on Prowl's desk.

Not that a datapad was unusual on the Autobot's Head Tactician's desk, of course, but the purple insignia branded on the back clearly marked it as Decepticon.

Prowl regarded the offending datapad warily, before finally reaching the conclusion that the chances of it blowing up were minimal. An automated message popped up when he turned it on, and Prowl couldn't help but raise an optic ridge as he read through it.

'Prowler,

Surprise! I'm missing you. No one in Kaon is half as fun as you, and the berth is cold without my cutie pie. Ol' Megsy is planning a nice, old-fashioned invasion in Polyhex in two days. This datapad includes all the boring details you love so much; like the time, place and battle plan. Try not to beat us too badly though - it would be more than a little unfortunate if I was found out and tried for treason.

Hoping to see you there, cutie pie.

Love, Jazz'

Prowl couldn't help it; he let out a short, mildly disbelieving laugh. Jazz had managed to sneak into the Iacon base yet again, despite the fact that he was meant to be miles away in Kaon, just to leave Prowl a datapad. And the plans were in-depth and greatly detailed; exactly how Prowl liked it.

He hated to admit it, but he had noticed the absence of Jazz's unusual quirks more than he thought he would have. He missed the Decepticon.

All he needed to do now was present the new information to Optimus, and make sure he would be in on the mission.

...

Jazz stalked through the city of Polyhex with an insane grin on his face, mauling and tearing into anyone who crossed his path. At times his mind became fuzzy, and he became unable to discern between enemies, allies and civilians.

He knew Prowl had gotten the datapad - it was obvious, considering the fact that the Autobots troops had arrived.

Naturally, Megatron was furious. There was no doubt that when they returned to their base in Kaon, the tyrant would be beside himself trying to figure out who had leaked the information. But it would never lead back to Jazz. The saboteur had made sure of that.

Jazz halted in his tracks suddenly, his fist halfway through an Autobot's chassis, as he picked up a familiar spark signature on his scanners. "He came." He laughed quietly in delight, whirling around.

Paying absolutely no mind to the Autobot falling to the ground behind him, Jazz took off in the direction of Prowl's spark signature, leaping and bounding over corpses and body parts as he raced towards the Autobot side of the fight.

Several Autobots fighting on the front lines yelped when they saw him coming, but he ran straight passed them without a second glance.

"JAZZ!" Megatron's roar was blatantly ignored by the silver saboteur. "GET BACK HERE!"

Prowl, who had heard Jazz's name being roared out, turned from where he had been scanning the battle in time to see said Decepticon racing towards him. "Ja-?"

Prowl never got to finish his sentence as Jazz collided with him. They rolled, and Prowl found himself unconsciously clutching at Jazz as they reached a slope and tumbled down it.

Vaguely, Prowl could hear Bluestreak shout out his name. They reached the bottom of the hill, and the impact was enough to force them apart.

Prowl landed rather painfully on his back, and let out a pained groan as his doorwings were jarred. Jazz, naturally, landed on his feet and immediately bounded onto Prowl's torso.

"Jazz! What are you doing?" The tactician hissed. He seemed irritated, but he didn't attempt to dislodge the Decepticon on top of him.

"Missed ya, Prowler." Jazz nuzzled the tacticians neck with his face.

"Jazz, we are in the middle of a battle!"

The only response was a giggle and a light kiss pressed into the black and white mech's neck cables. "Ah'm glad ya got mah datapad."

"I would be able to think better if you were not on top of me in the middle of a battlefield!" Prowl hissed, looking around in case someone could see them.

"Hehe, relax cutie pie. We fell down a hill. No one's gonna see us down here." Jazz assured him, grabbing Prowl's face and pulling it around so he had his undivided attention. "Ya know, Ah think Ah'm gonna come back an' stay at yo' base again for a while. Ah'll have to go back t' Kaon with the 'Cons first, but Ah'll come back and stay at your base again.." He had barely been in Prowl's presence for a minute, but the unstable Decepticon was already beginning to feel more.. Stable.

The battle computer deeply ingrained in Prowl's processor began spitting reasons why that would be a bad idea, but for once his emotions spoke louder than logic. He had missed the saboteur's company too - after all, it wasn't as though anyone else actually wanted to spend time with Prowl. "But.. You only left four days ago." was the only intelligent answer to leave his mouth.

Jazz hummed and nuzzled Prowl's neck again. "Worst four days since-" Jazz cut himself off sharply, before forcing a laugh and shaking his head. "It was weird not seein' your li'l scowl in the mornin' when Ah woke up."

"Since what?"

"Hm?"

"Worst four days since what?"

"Nothin', Prowler." Jazz said firmly. "How 'bout we don't ruin the happy mood, yeah?"

Prowl knew better than to argue, and so dropped the arguement. "Are you going to let me up?"

"Sure." the sighed reply tickled Prowl's audio and caused the black and white mech to shiver. Easily noticing the larger mech's reaction, Jazz grinned widely as he swung himself up and off Prowl's torso.

As Prowl stood up, he brushed dust off his frame. "I cannot imagine that Megatron will be pleased with you. Everyone both heard and saw you completely disobeying orders."

"Ah didn't disobey orders, Ah just didn't listen when he called me." Defensively, Jazz crossed his arms over his chassis.

"Even so. Would I be correct in saying he will punish you for impudence?"

Nothing was said for a long moment, before Jazz finally spoke again. "He ain't ever punished meh before."

That statement earned a small frown from Prowl. "I have heard of Decepticons who have committed suicide after failing Megatron, simply because they were too afraid to face their punishment. But you - what makes you different?"

Jazz shot him a grin and stepped forward, crowding Prowl. The larger mech barely blinked; he was far too used to Jazz's antics by now. "Ah told ya already; Ah'm insane. EVERYONE is scared o' meh. Except you, of course." Reaching out, Jazz smoothed out the frown in the middle of Prowl's forehead with his thumb.

No resistance came from Prowl; if anything, he relaxed at Jazz's touch. "We should go." He said suddenly. "Bluestreak saw you attack me. I'm sure he will come looking for me the moment he can."

"Ah didn't ATTACK ya." Jazz muttered irritably. "You're bein' over dramatic." Ignoring the baleful glare Prowl shot him, the Decepticon leaned his head in and rested his forehead on Prowl's.

With a sigh, the black and white mech once again relaxed into the touch. On the inside, Prowl contemplated what his comrades would say if they saw him looking so cozy with an enemy. Not that he considered Jazz an enemy anymore. "I still think we should go."

"Fine." Jazz whined, stepping back from Prowl. "But Ah'm still comin' with ya."

They began walking back up the hill they had tumbled down, and Prowl let out a wry chuckle. "I never protested."

A smile spread across Jazz's face - a real smile, not his usual maniacal grin. He reached out and cheerfully took Prowl's hand. "Good! Ah knew ya missed meh."

Frowning slightly at their joined hands, Prowl said "Should you not be hiding? We will soon be coming into the view of our comrades." But he didn't pull away.

"Mmm. If ya insist, cutie pie." With a mildly irritated sigh, Jazz released Prowl's hand. "Be seein' ya later, Prowler."

A very small smile appeared on Prowl's face as he watched the saboteur creep away.

...

"So you're definitely sure you're okay? I mean, I know Ratchet said you were okay, but I saw you get attacked by that Decepticon. It was sort of scary, I thought he was going to kill you-"

Prowl had to hold back a sigh as Bluestreak followed him down the corridor, chattering nonstop. "Bluestreak, relax. I am fine."

The chattering faltered for a moment as Bluestreak paused. "I was just worried..."

"There is no need to be. I am fine." Prowl reached his quarters and typed in his code.

The first thing the tactician saw when the door slid open was the familiar form of Jazz curled up and recharging on his berth.

Managing to prevent a strangled yelp from escaping his vocaliser, Prowl punched his fist down on the control panel, successfully slamming the door closed before Bluestreak could see in.

The younger Praxian looked slightly taken aback by Prowl's behaviour. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Of course." The reply sounded distinctly strained, and wouldn't have fooled anyone. "I- perhaps you should see Ratchet yourself, in case you are injured. Protocol demands that you see a medic after a battle."

"But- but I thought we were going to go to your quarters? You said you wanted to discuss Sides and Sunny?"

Ah. Yes. Prowl suddenly felt no urge to discuss the Twins with Bluestreak. He just wanted to go into his quarters and ask Jazz how the frag he had gotten here so quickly. "Ah.. Yes. Something has come up. Please accept my apologies, Bluestreak."

Uncertain, Bluestreak gave a little shrug and smile. "That's okay. Another time, then? I'd like you to talk to them properly; I don't mean giving out to them, y'know? I mean properly talking. I think you might actually get on with them."

"I doubt it." Prowl said wryly. "Nevertheless, I will do so if you wish it."

With a beaming smile, Bluestreak gave his larger Praxian companion a bear hug. "Thank you!"

As Bluestreak stepped back and gave a wave, Prowl turned back to his door. He typed in his code yet again, but didn't open the door until Bluestreak had rounded the corner.

This time, Jazz stirred as the door opened and closed. "Prowler?" He asked, red visor flickering drowsily.

"What are you doing?"

With a shake of his head in an attempt to clear his processor, Jazz focused his visored gaze on Prowl. "Whatta ya mean? Ah told ya Ah was comin' back here with ya."

"But how did you reach my quarters before I got here? I thought you were returning to the Decepticons before coming here."

"Oh." With a luxurious stretch that showed off his slender frame, Jazz climbed off the berth and loped over to Prowl. "Well, Ah'm Head o' Special Ops f'r a reason. Although Ah don't think Ah'm technically Head o' anythin' any more."

Prowl frowned as the saboteur stopped right in front of him and leaned in. "What do you mean?"

A gust of warm air blew over Prowl's face as Jazz sighed. "Megatron.. wasn't too happy with meh. Said Ah'd been actin' out recently. Didn't think Ah was payin' enough attention to mah job."

Prowl gazed into the red depths of the visor impassively for a long moment. "So you lost your position?" He said at last, tilting his helm.

"Humph. Guess ya could say that. Ah don't think he wants ta see mah faceplate for a while, so... Here Ah am." It was Jazz's way of saying that this way a place he felt safe.

"I am sorry."

A shrug. "Don't matter."

"Of course it does." Prowl frowned. "Do not pretend to be unaffected."

"Ah just wanna forget abou' it." Jazz murmured, leaning in close again until their olfactory sensors were pressed together. Prowl went to move back, but Jazz's hands shot up and clutched at his face before he had taken so much as a step. "No! Don't."

"Jazz..."

The saboteur hummed as he leaned in even closer. Prowl stood stiffly as the silver Decepticon pressed their lips together in a kiss.

Desperate for Prowl to reciprocate even a tiny bit, Jazz kissed him harder and wrapped his arms around well-built black shoulders. It took a moment, but Prowl eventually placed his hands tentatively on the smaller mechs waist. Barely suppressing a triumphant grin, Jazz managed to commandeer the kiss towards the berth. With a light push, the back of Prowl's knees hit the berth and he toppled backwards.

Jazz was on top of him immediately, the kiss never faltering. Prowl let out a short gasp as he received a sharp nip to his neck. "Jazz- wait."

"Don't wanna." Another nip punctuated his words.

"Jazz! I have no wish to rush into anything."

Completely heedless of the protests, Jazz ground his pelvis onto Prowl's interface panel. His silver paint left satisfying scratches on the Autobot's dark hips.

"I said enough." Prowl pushed Jazz away firmly. Before the Decepticon could get offended, he set his hands on silver shoulders. "Jazz, I consider you to be my friend. And trust me when I say that it has been a long time since I have said that about someone. But I am not, nor have I ever been, the type of mech to interface casually and forget about it the next day."

"Ah never said that was-"

"Yes, you did." Prowl interrupted sharply. "Perhaps, some day, once we got to know each other. But not now."

"Ah don't wanna wait." whined Jazz as he buried his face in black and white chestplates. His sharp fingers began stroking sensitive doorwings; not in a way that was supposed to be sensual, but in a way that begged comfort and reassurance.

Ignoring the pulses of pleasure running through his sensor net from the massage to his doorwings, Prowl laid his hands across Jazz's back. "I want to know about you."

As Jazz stiffened in apprehension, his fingers stopped stroking. "No one ever wants ta know about meh."

"Well, I do." Prowl stated, just barely resisting the urge to whimper and press his doorwings back into those dangerous hands.

The silence stretched on for a long time, until Prowl thought that he wasn't going to receive an answer. But eventually, Jazz lifted his helm and looked Prowl straight in the optic. "What do ya wanna know?"

"Everything."

A short, bitter laugh escaped Jazz's mouth. "That could take a while. Hope ya have time."

"Lots of it."

A pause. "Fine. It'll be easier if we hook up first. Where's your cable?" His only answer was a hesitant look, and Jazz rolled his optics behind his visor. "C'mon, mech. Ah ain't explainin' mah whole life story when Ah can just show ya."

Logical. Prowl nodded and reached for a small compartment in his left shoulder, cautiously unspooling his hardline cable and handing it to Jazz.

Normally, the tactician would have been put on edge at the fact that a Decepticon was handling such delicate equipment. One wrong move with a claw and Prowl would be sent into a world of pain unlike which he had ever known. But he trusted this Decepticon. He was being illogical, irrational, and reckless. And he didn't even care anymore.

"Just sayin', mah life story is long an' depressin', so Ah ain't gonna show ya the whole thing at once. We can watch it in instalments." Jazz flicked open a compartment on his right arm and unceremoniously plugged Prowl in. Abruptly, Prowl was sucked into the whirlwind that was Decepticon Jazz's mind. It was chaotic, colourful and hypnotic ; everything Prowl's mind wasn't. Yet there was an order to the chaos - a type of sharpness that could almost be overlooked, if it weren't so prominent.

"You're beautiful." The words were out before Prowl had any time to think about them of their implications; all he knew was that he was being sincere.

Jazz didn't even respond; he simply directed Prowl to a particular memory file. "Here we go."

_~ Memory file ~_

_"Youngling!"_

_A young dirty silver mechling stood at the edge of a balcony, peering cautiously over the railing onto the street below. 'Bots shuffled around the streets, going about their daily business without a care in the world. The young mechling appeared fascinated by all the activity below him, but at the sound of his name all the excitement visible on his face vanished, only to be replaced with a neutral expression that had clearly been practiced. "Yes, Brother?" He asked politely as he turned._

_A large green and black mech was frowning in the doorway. His body was large enough to inspire caution to anyone who happened to look at him; everything about him looked as though he were built for war, which was far from the truth. No one at this place believed in war. "Get away from the railing. You know perfectly well you are forbidden from being out here."_

_The young Cybertronian bowed his helm. "Sorry. I just-" he broke off and glanced back at the 'bots below. "How come I can't go and play with those mechlings, Brother Theorem?"_

_The larger mech gave the smaller a sympathetic look as he steered him away from the balcony and back into the dark depths of the Crypt. "You do not belong with them, young mechling."_

_The youngling hated the Crypt. Having been left there by his creator when he had barely gotten his final sparkling upgrade, he pretty much belonged to the foreboding temple and the dangerous mechs that ran it. "Where do I belong?"_

_"Ah, we have yet to find that out. Perhaps you will discover your place on your own, or perhaps you will need some guidance. The day will come. And on that day, you will be permitted to choose a name you believe defines you. And when you choose such a name, you will be free to leave the Temple." Theorem glanced at the youngling. He was different to the others; where the others followed orders out of blind fear of being beaten, this mechling questioned everything and often resisted, resulting in frequent beatings. And yet he continued pushing the boundaries of the Temple's patience._

_"The other youngling's already have a name for me." He muttered, scuffing his foot on the ground as he followed Theorem down a dark spiralling set of stairs._

_"Ah, yes." The amusement in the old mech's voice was very thinly veiled. "Remind me what this name is, won't you?"_

_"They call me Highborn."_

_"And why is that?" They reached the bottom of the staircase and emerged into a dank corridor. Theorem continued leading the way down to the Youth Quarters._

_"They are making fun of me."_

_Theorem hummed thoughtfully, abruptly switching course and heading away from the Youth Quarters. Noticing the change, the silver youngster said nothing as he sped up to keep stride with his much older companion. "Highborn. It seems strangely suited to you." Theorem almost laughed at he sharp look he received. He led the youngling into an empty training room, calmly locking the door behind him. "Choose a weapon."_

_The youngling hesitated, glancing at the broad array of violent tools displayed on the table. Despite the fact that the Temple Master's didn't believe in war of any kind, physical violence was something they approved fiercely of. It was strange, but after living with these beliefs shoved at you from all directions, it was something one learned to accept. As always, the youngling chose a curved knife; not quite long enough to be a sword, yet not short enough to be considered a dagger. The blade was as long as the mechling's forearm and wickedly sharp - he had claimed it from the moment himself and his fellow younglings had entered this room for the first time._

_Theorem nodded at his choice and drew his own weapon of choice; a long, curved sword - the type only nobility carried. "Perhaps the others call you Highborn because of the way you act." The large mech suggested as he swung his sword towards his charge._

_A practiced movement blocked the attack, and the youngling struck at an exposed wire in the back of Theorem's knee joint. "But the only thing that is different about me is the way I speak. I have a different accent to the other younglings."_

_"You are well spoken, and this points towards education, intelligence, and opportunity; the other younglings have never known such things. But I never said anything about the way you speak. I said the way you ACT." The black and green mech blocked the strike to his leg and swung his sword to leave a long, jagged scratch in already scuffed silver paint. "You act polite. You make optic contact. You stand straight. You hold your head high. No doubt all this was firmly ingrained in you from your sparkling years."_

_With an angry growl, the mechling stabbed viciously at his sparring partner. "That doesn't mean I'm highborn, it means my creators had manners!"_

_A mildly surprised laugh escaped Theorem's vocaliser as the mechling's stab made contact with his stomach plates. "Good." He commended briefly, before returning to the fight and their conversation. "If you wish to be a hidden knife, you must not stand out. You must learn how to blend into your surroundings, become the same as everyone else. Learn to stay unique, yet never be special. Understood?"_

_"Maybe I don't want to be a hidden knife!"_

_"It does not matter what you want! You belong to the Crypt, as does every other youngling here!" Theorem jammed his blade into the joint between the youngling's arm and shoulder. "You will be a hidden knife. You will learn to infiltrate ranks, assassinate leaders, gain trust and stab backs, all whilst keeping a smile on your face. Emotions do not matter here. You know that. Learn to be cold. No matter who you were before you were left at the Crypt, you are that mech no longer. You will never be that mech again."_

_The youngling screamed as his arm was torn from its joints. "Stop!"_

_"You must learn to embrace pain, not run from it. If you run, you will never stop. Never scream. Never make a sound. The other's have learned this. Why do you resist?" Theorem pushed the youngling to the ground and knelt on his small frame to keep him on the floor. "You must learn to slump. You must learn to mumble your words - sound uneducated. You must learn to avoid optic contact. You must learn to keep your head down. You must learn to not be so proud. You must understand that you are unimportant. Inconsequential. Do you truly believe that the whole planet will cease orbiting if you are deactivated? It won't. Life will go on, and no one will mourn you. No one will have known you. No amount of pride will change that."_

_The youngling held back his whimpers of agony as Theorem began fiddling with the wires that had been torn loose when his silver arm had been ripped off. "Well.. T-then I'll do s-something important. I'll b-become s-something no one will forget."_

_"Don't be childish. There are so few ways to be important in this society. Make your name as a mercenary as all hidden knives do. Perhaps you could be the greatest. You certainly have the potential. But it will not be handed to you on a silver platter; you must work for it, Highborn. And you may start by losing your pride. Lose your arrogance. Lose everything."_

_"I don't have anything left to lose." The venom in those seven words burned like acid._

_"That's a start. But there will always be something to lose. Always." Theorem stood abruptly and pulled the youngling to his feet. "Let's get you to a medic, hmmm? You did fantastic today."_

_The hug he received from Theorem only served to confuse his already scrambled processor. He wasn't sure why he had deserved praise. He wasn't sure whether the hugging or the violence was the show of affection from Theorem. He wasn't sure what he had left._

_He was only sure that there was no way he'd be getting out of this place with all his processors intact._

_~ Memory File at End ~_

Everything was silent.

Jazz disconnected Prowl's cable with shaking hands, refusing to meet the Praxian's optics. He didn't want to see pity reflected there.

"Jazz."

The silver Decepticon twitched slightly. "What?"

"Look at me. Please." The plea from Prowl managed to get Jazz to reluctantly raise his head. There was no pity in Prowl's deep blue optics; only anger, sympathy and something else Jazz couldn't identify. "You went through all that as a youngling?"

With his emotions already highly strung, Jazz practically collapsed against the strong, black and white chest in front of him. "Tha'.. Ah didn't.. Ah was young, didn't know wha'-"

Prowl shushed him and stroked over the silver backplates, unconsciously avoiding the arm that had been torn off in the memory. If anyone were to witness the scene, they would have been surprised at the way the Praxian's doorwings were flared protectively over his newly proclaimed friend. "It is alright. It is fine." A long hesitation as Prowl seemed to think deeply about something. "Jazz... What was that place? It seemed completely unfamiliar to me, and I have no matches in my databanks."

"It's called the Crypt. WAS called the Crypt." Jazz corrected himself. He couldn't bring himself to look into Prowl's optics again - he was scared of that unknown emotion shining in them. "Birthplace o' all assassins an' mercenaries. Not a nice place. Not nice." Jazz buried his face into Prowl's protective embrace. He hated thinking of his time spent there. Hated that he had been so weak. Hated that they had taken so much from him. They had made him into what he was, and he hated them for it. "Ah spent most o' my younglin' life there. Didn't leave 'till Ah was in mah first adult upgrade frame. Place was blown up. Good. Hated it."

Prowl frowned, disturbed by Jazz's decline. The Decepticon seemed more unstable than ever. "Calm down. It is alright." He patted a silver shoulder awkwardly. Comfort was never his strong suit.

"Do ya know where it was? The Crypt, Ah mean." Jazz sat up suddenly, gazing straight into Prowl's optics. "It was under a Temple. A Temple o' Primus. Can ya imagine? All the monks 'n' holy mechs weren't really all that virtuous. Most o' them would'a killed ya without blinkin'. No one ever questioned them about missin' younglings. Couple'a kids go missin, enforcers ain't gonna investigate a Temple with its priests an' monks an' whatnot. They're gonna investigate the criminals and gangs. They just had no way o' tellin' that the most lethal criminal activity was takin' place right under the smiles and prayers and bondin' ceremonies."

Prowl was silent for a long, long time. He continued stroking Jazz's plating in an effort to calm him down, and eventually the Decepticon relaxed into his touch. "I am sorry I insisted on watching that memory. I did not realise how you would react." Prowl murmured.

Jazz lifted his head and stared at him. "Ah want ta show ya the rest. If ya want." He added hastily.

"Jazz.. I do not wish you to feel obligated-"

"Ah don't." He interrupted. "But Ah need ta show someone, and you're the closest thing to a friend Ah have right now."

A pleasant feeling spread through Prowl's spark as he nodded. "Very well. But not tonight; you should recharge now."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." With a tired nod of his head, Jazz offlined his optics and his visor went dark. "G'night."

"Goodnight." Prowl answered softly. Jazz's face had relaxed, and the tactician couldn't help but notice how much more peaceful he looked.

It was beginning to look like there was a lot more to Jazz than meets the eye.


	6. Chapter 6

"Ah need t' go outside." Jazz announced suddenly, sitting up sharply on the berth and staring over at Prowl.

The tactician glanced up from the datapad he had been reading on the couch and frowned. "Outside?"

"Yeah, outside. Ah'm gettin' all antsy bein' cooped up in here." With a whine, the saboteur slid off the berth and slunk over to the couch, before draping himself over the black and white mech.

"Jazz-" with a mildly disgruntled sigh, Prowl set down the datapad and raised an optic ridge at his new blanket. "I am not keeping you 'cooped up'. You are here because you wish to be."

"Ah know that, dummy. But Ah wanna go outside."

"That... would be unwise." came the hesitant reply. "Our Security Director is rather...ah...enthusiastic when it comes to his job."

"Prowler, Ah get that. Ah just don't care. Thing is, Ah don't like bein' confined. Ah.. Ah can't take it, Prowler. Ah need t' be outside. Just f'r a while." The Decepticon reached up and grabbed Prowl's face, pulling it closer to his. "C'mon, Prowler. Bring meh outside."

Jazz's visor had darkened, lending him an insane look that caused Prowl to lean back warily. "Calm yourself. Very well. We can go outside." He watched as Jazz bounced to his feet in a sparkbeat. "Only if you behave."

With a giggle and a sneaky grin, Jazz pulled the larger mech to his feet. "Aw, are ya worried Ah'll be naughty in public?"

Deliberately ignoring that comment, Prowl took the lead and marched towards the door. "Your signal disruptor?"

"Yup." The deep red of his visor lightened to a cerulean blue and the Decepticon signal was dampened, before a false Autobot signal was broadcasted over it. "Let's go."

...

Thankfully, no one was outside when the two mechs emerged from the Iaconian Base into the courtyard outside. The Autobot Base was surrounded by a high wall, protecting the entire infrastructure from attack. Within the walls, a small courtyard with little benches was located in the far corner of the Base.

"This is where Ah first introduced mahself." Jazz observed, looking around and taking a deep invent of air.

"More like tried to ravish me."

He couldn't help it; Jazz burst out laughing in pure delight. "Oh Prowler, don't say 'ravish'. You're temptin' meh." With a graceful bound, the saboteur jumped onto one of the benches and stretched himself out. "Unless you're willin'?"

"Not tonight."

"Wasn't expectin' ya to, anyway." A comfortable silence settled over the two of them as Prowl took a seat next to him. For a long time, they just enjoyed each others company and the feeling of being under the stars.

"I am making a logical observation in saying that your discomfort of being confined stems from your youth. Being confined underground is hardly an appropriate environment to be raised in." Prowl announced suddenly, looking to Jazz.

Silence met his statement. "Huh." The blue visor was fixed on a natural crystal formation growing on the wall. "Well, ain't that interestin'."

Prowl didn't reply.

With a sigh, the saboteur slumped and leaned against the larger mech. "Yeah, guess you're right. Ah don't particularly like stayin' in one place for too long. Makes meh feel like..like.." Jazz's face scrunched up; he was entirely unused to talking about his feelings. He finally found an appropriate word to describe it. "Trapped."

"Understandable." The Praxian nodded.

"What 'bout you?" Jazz bumped his companion's shoulder with his. "Ah think it's your turn t' tell meh 'bout your hist'ry."

"There is not much to know." Prowl answered calmly, tilting his head back to look at the stars. "I was sparked to a middle class family in Nothern Praxus. Both of my creators were Enforcers, and I was raised as one too. I joined the force when I was introduced into my first adult frame. My battle computer and logic centre allowed me to rise quickly through the ranks, and I was eventually head of my own department. When the war began, the Autobots reached out and requested I join their tactical division."

Jazz forced himself not to show surprise at the fact Prowl had been sparked rather than preprogrammed. He hadn't expected that. "That sounds..."

"Boring." Prowl supplied helpfully.

"Ah was gonna say nice, actually. Normal." Even saying that, Jazz had a feeling Prowl was leaving a lot out.

"Hm. I suppose it was." Prowl said thoughtfully, tilting his head to look up at the sky again. "Normal and mundane."

"So, 's that all you're gonna tell meh 'bout your life?" Jazz pressed, nudging his taller companion's waist.

"What else would you like to know about?"

"Hmm... Lovers?"

With a roll of his optics, Prowl shook his head. "I should have known you were going to ask that." When Jazz was silent, he continued. "Very few. I am not fond of allowing 'bots I do not know into my berth, as you should know by now."

"Heh, yeah. But ya know meh now." With a cheeky smile, he rested his head on Prowl's shoulderplates. The Praxian's only reply was a wry smile as Jazz kissed his black shoulder. "Ya know meh better than anyone's known meh ever, in fact."

After a brief beat of silence, the tactician glanced down at the cuddly Decepticon huddled into his side. "Really?"

"Mhmm. Ya should feel honoured."

"I do."

The absolute sincerity in those two words caused Jazz to raise his head suspiciously. "Really?"

"Yes, certainly. I am pleased you considered me to be trustworthy enough to-"

"No need to read too much into it." The saboteur muttered. "Seriously."

That gained a small, amused smile from the Praxian. "My apologies."

They both relapsed into another comfortable silence. After about ten minutes, Jazz spoke up again. "It's kinda ironic, ain't it? The fact that you used t' be an Enforcer, and Ah was a criminal."

"Hm." Still not removing his gaze from the stars, Prowl pursed his lip components. "I had given it some thought."

"Of course ya had." With a snort, Jazz kissed the Autobot's shoulder again.

"Why do you keep doing that?" The question wasn't demanding or angry; it was soft, confused and honestly curious.

"What, kissin' ya? Ah'm showin' affection." He kissed the shoulder again to emphasise his point.

Prowl had finally turned his gaze back on Jazz. With a shake of his head, he said "I am aware of what the gesture itself means, but I am confused as to why you are doing it so often."

"Maybe Ah just have a lot o' affection for ya."

Whatever Prowl was going to say was forgotten as Jazz closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together. It wasn't a demanding kiss, as would have been expected from the Decepticon; instead, it was soft and...affectionate. A soft sigh escaped Prowl's vents as the saboteur's skilled claws rubbed circles in the back of his tense neck cables.

All too soon, Jazz pulled back with a half-smile. "See? That was affection too."

With a valiant effort to force his cooling fans off, Prowl nodded. "I understand affection. I am simply not used to receiving it in that format."

There was a pause. Then a frown, although it was hidden behind the blue visor. "What kinda lovers have you had, Prowler? Tell me how many."

"Three."

"Three?" Jazz repeated in disbelief; Prowl was a good-looking mech. Far from good-looking - he was gorgeous! How were mechs not lining up to 'face him senseless? "And..and none of 'em kissed ya?"

"Not like that, no." was the calm reply. Prowl seemed to consider a moment before adding, "They would kiss me during interfacing, but not for no reason other than to show affection."

"Mech, even Ah know that that's weird. And Ah grew up underground in a pit full o' homicidal savages."

After he considered this in silence for a moment, Prowl frowned. "I was not aware it was unusual."

"We're gonna have t' change this, ya know." The saboteur leaned in and captured Prowl's lips with his again.

With a very small hum, the Praxian opened his mouth slightly. Rather than plunging his glossa into the other's mouth, Jazz gently licked at his partners lower lip component.

Blue optics widened in surprise at the action, which caused Jazz to laugh and pull back again. "What? What did Ah do ta confuse ya this time?"

"Did you.. lick me?"

"Oh Primus, tell meh Ah don't have t' explain this to ya as well."

Prowl's faceplates flushed darker with energon. "I understand the connotations. I simply was unprepared."

With a grin, Jazz climbed onto the larger's lap and straddled it. "Ah can prepare ya better, if ya want." He swooped in to claim another kiss, and the Praxian didn't even hesitate in reciprocating this time. Prowl couldn't even process the fact that kissing like this in public outside the Iaconian Base was most improper; all he could focus on was Jazz, and the wonderful sensations the Decepticon was causing him to feel.

Soon enough, they were wound tightly together; their arms were locked around each other in a tight embrace, Jazz's legs were wrapped around Prowl's waist, and their glossas were tangled together. It looked as though they would be impossible to pry apart.

Until someone behind them cleared their vocaliser.

The couple broke apart almost reluctantly as they turned to see who was standing in the entrance to the building. "Prime, sir!" Prowl almost jumped to his feet, but Jazz's weight was keeping him on the bench. The Decepticon had frozen, staring at the Autobot leader's huge frame. This had not been in the plan. Below him, Prowl was actually spluttering, "I- we were- I don't- it's not what it looks like, I-"

With an amused smile, Optimus Prime stepped forwards into the courtyard and cocked an optic ridge at them. "If it is not what it looks like, I would hate to find out what it is you are actually doing."

Without conscious thought, Jazz pressed closer to the Autobot he was sitting on. ::Frag it. Prowl, Ah gotta get outta here b'fore he looks at meh properly.::

Before Prowl could respond, the Prime turned to regard the saboteur with a tilted head. "Hello. I don't believe I recognise you." Clearly noticing Jazz's slim, streamlined frame type, he frowned slightly. "Special Operations? Are you one of Spectrum's mechs?"

With a wrinkle of his olfactory ridge, Jazz shook his head. He had decided to simply not speak; that way Prime wouldn't have any way to recognise his voice from previous battles and whatnot. Prowl decided to speak for him. "He.. Ah.. Transferred recently."

"Is that so?" Optimus seemed amused. "Well, welcome to Iacon. I must say, you must have had quite the effect on our tactician - I can guarantee you that he is not normally one for late night romantic rendezvous-"

"Prime!" Prowl yelped, glaring. "That is hardly appropriate!"

With a chuckle, Optimus nodded. "My apologies. I wished to talk with you, in fact."

Still dazed and embarrassed from being caught with Jazz, the tactician nodded and pushed the smaller silver mech off him. Jazz watched as he walked after his leader, before stretching out on the bench to wait for his return.

Optimus led Prowl out of hearing distance, into a corridor. After a glance around to make sure no one was around to hear, the Prime spoke. "How is your Decepticon friend acclimatising to the base?"

Prowl stiffened and his doorwings rose in shock as his processor stalled. "I- what?" His logic centre booted up again, and he blanched. "Sir, I can explain-"

With a shake of his head, Optimus frowned. "Prowl, I trust your judgement. I have faith that you know what you are doing. But if that Decepticon out there puts ANY Autobot in danger, I'm afraid it will be you held responsible. Is that understood? It was a remarkably foolish and dangerous thing to do."

"I- yes, sir. Of course."

"Good. Having that said," Optimus allowed himself a small smile. "It is good to see you happy."

"How did you.. when did you realise that-"

"That you were hiding a Decepticon in your quarters?" The Autobot commander raised an optic ridge. "Red Alert was worried about why you were in such a good mood recently. He seemed to think you had been brainwashed by Decepticons. Perhaps he was not too far from the truth." He ignored Prowl's indignant huff and continued, "I promised him I would find out why you were acting so happy."

"I was under the impression we were being careful." Prowl sighed. "You have my uttermost apologies, Prime. If you wish for me to resign from my position, I completely understand. What I have done is against approximately twenty seven protocols, not including subclauses, and-"

"Prowl." Optimus interrupted the tactician. "I would not ask such a thing. You are one of our best assets. It is clear that this Decepticon is having a positive affect on you, strange as that may seem. You are happier than I have seen you in a long time, and I would not compromise that over something as trivial as protocol." Prowl's frown at protocol being called 'trivial' went ignored. "As I have said, as long as his presence does not endanger anyone on base, he will be tolerated. But to avoid mass panic, I would avoid mentioning the fact that he is allied with the enemy faction."

"Yes.. Yes, of course." Prowl's logic centre was finally beginning to catch up, although it was still struggling not to crash. "I- thank you."

"You should get back to him." With an indulgent smile, Optimus bid him goodnight before turning and disappearing down the corridor.

Prowl stayed where he was for another moment as he forced his processor to compute what had just happened. When he felt ready, he turned and walked back out to Jazz.

The Decepticon was exactly where he had left him - lying comfortably across the bench. "Hey!" He sat up the moment he caught sight of the black and white mech. "What'd he say? Where's he gone?"

"I- he knew you were a Decepticon." Prowl sat down on the bench slowly, still confused.

Jazz jerked back in surprise. "But Ah had mah signal jammer on! He shouldn't'a been able ta tell!" A frown creased his forehelm, but was hidden behind his visor. "Why didn't he kill meh?"

Prowl whipped his head around in surprise. "Kill you? Why would he kill you? He is allowing you to stay with me so long as you do not endanger anyone."

"But Ah'm the enemy!" Frustrated, the saboteur stood up and punched a hole in one of the decorative crystal formations.

"Jazz, those are precious crystal statues, not punching bags. I must ask that you refrain from destroying any of them. I am rather fond of them." This statement was punctuated with a disapproving glance at the saboteur.

Jazz remained still for a moment, before sitting back down. "Sorry Prowler. Didn' know ya liked 'em." With another frown, he leaned against the larger mech. "Ah don't like it when Ah don't understand somethin'. And Ah don't understand why yo' Prime is lettin' meh stay."

"There are lots of things we do not understand; but they are evened out by all the things we do know. Prime believes you are good for me, and is allowing you to stay here. And now I no longer have to worry about the guilt of not telling my superiors about you."

With a sidelong glance at Prowl, Jazz shuffled closer. "Ya were worried? Ah didn't know."

"A bit. And it is fine. I worry about lots of things."

"Like?"

"Illogical things I cannot control. The war. Losing my allies. Going wrong in my calculations and causing the death of an Autobot."

"Prowler.." Jazz frowned. "It ain't your fault people die."

"Is that any reason to not worry about who might be next?" Prowl retorted, shuttering his optics tiredly.

Silence fell over the both of them, and Jazz leaned against his companion. "Thanks. F'r bringin' meh outside. Sorry it caused trouble with your boss."

"It is fine." Prowl murmured, glancing at the smaller mech. "Are you ready to return to my quarters?"

"Yeah." Jazz stretched, absently draping his upper body over Prowl's white thighs.

With a quirk of his optic ridges, Prowl smiled slightly at the mech in his lap. "You do not look ready."

"Ah, give meh a minute, cutie pie." Jazz kissed one of Prowl's thighs, before sitting up again and looping his arms around the black and white mech's neck. "Ah kinda like it out here."

"Yes, I am also fond of this place." Prowl observed, allowing Jazz to nuzzle him. "It is aesthetically pleasing and relaxing."

"Mhm." The Decepticon continued nuzzling at Prowl's neck. "It's great."

The tactician frowned as he checked his chronometer. "There are five minutes until the work shift is over. Perhaps we should return now."

"How 'bout we go t' the rec. room?" Jazz nudged him eagerly. "Now that Ah'm officially allowed t' be here, Ah can meet some o' your friends."

"You are not 'officially' allowed to be here. Optimus is being lenient and blatantly ignoring protocols."

"Yeah, yeah, c'mon Prowler! You ain't workin' t'night, so we can get overcharged!"

The look Prowl sent him could have sliced through glass. "I do not 'get overcharged'. It is an illogical and harmful thing to do to one's body and processors."

"Aw, lighten up Prowler! C'mon, mech, just a little overcharged? Enough t' relax ya."

"Jazz, I will not-!" Prowl cut himself off, before pushing himself roughly from the bench, dislodging Jazz. Vents heaving, Prowl rubbed his face and paced in a circle. "Please don't..."

Startled, Jazz watched the Autobot walk in circles. "Whoa, Prowler.. Ah didn't mean t' upset ya or nothin'... What's up?"

The tactician paused at the wall of the building, leaning his head on the cool metal. "I.. I apologise. My reaction was illogical."

With a frown, Jazz stood and loped over to Prowl. "Tell meh what's wrong. Ah don't know what's wrong."

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I overreacted. I apologise, and it will not happen again."

Jazz snarled in frustration. "Prowl, tell meh what's wrong, or so help meh Ah'll-"

"My sire." Prowl mumbled into the wall, his voice so muffled that it was only thanks to Jazz's advanced audios that he could hear it.

"What 'bout him?" Jazz murmured, pulling the tactician away from the wall and taking hold of his chin. "Hey, Prowler... Ya can tell meh."

And the strangest thing was, Prowl already knew he could tell the saboteur. "My sire.. He.."

"Had a high-grade problem?" Jazz guessed cautiously.

After a brief silence, the taller mech nodded. "Yes."

"...Did he ever hurt ya?"

Blue optics dimmed. "Occasionally. I could bear it. My carrier could not."

The idea that Prowl was not a pre-programmed mech still confused Jazz slightly, but he ignored it. "He hurt your carrier? How..? It.. it would hurt him too, wouldn' it?"

"They were not bonded." Prowl answered, keeping his optics offlined.

Jazz's temporarily blue visor flickered in surprise. "They sparked without bondin'? That's..."

"Dangerous." Prowl supplied.

"Yeah." There was silence for another moment. "Ah'm sorry."

"I have had a lifetime to acclimatise." Prowl said shortly.

"How 'bout we just go back to our quarters?"

"My quarters." The correction was half-hearted and weak as Jazz took his hand and pulled him inside the building.

"That's what Ah meant." The Decepticon lied easily, casting a hidden glance at Prowl. He hadn't seen the stoic tactician react so emotionally about anything ever. He decided to tell him so. "That was quite the reaction. Ah mean, Ah should've expected it considerin' how long you've probably been bottlin' it all up... But it's the first time Ah've seen ya react so emotionally t' anything."

"I realise that." Prowl said stiffly as he was tugged down the corridors. Thankfully, they came across no one in the empty halls. "And once again, I apologise."

"Don't. Ah like it. Gives ya more.. character."

Prowl let out a small snort as they reached his quarters and Jazz keyed in the code. "I am glad you appreciate the extra character my suffering has lent me."

As the door opened and they both entered the room, Jazz shot him a smile. "O' course. Ah 'ppreciate all'a ya. You're great."

"I am flawed." Prowl sat heavily on his berth, frowning severely.

"Ev'ryone is." The silver mech climbed onto the berth beside him. "Particularly those that've suffered. Don' be so hard on yourself."

A hiss of air escaped Prowl's vents as he lay down, doorwings fanned out behind him. "I suppose you are right."

"'Course Ah am, Ah'm me." Jazz snuggled up to the Praxian, trying to hide how fascinated he was by the larger mech's doorwings. Naturally, his curiosity got the better of him; he dragged a sharp finger gently down the smooth, thin metal. "Yo' wings sensitive?"

The tatician's body had stiffened at the touch to his wings. "Very." He sounded strained.

With a cheeky grin, Jazz pressed a kiss to the sensor panels, before allowing his glossa to slip out and licking lightly at a groove in the metal. Prowl groaned and his fists clenched as sensation washed over him. He unconsciously pressed his wings back into Jazz's touch. The saboteur giggled. "Oh, now you're gettin' eager. Y'know, Ah'd love to frag ya right now, but Ah don't think Ah should. You had an emotional day an' such-"

Prowl was about to insist that he had not wanted to interface anyway, but he latched onto the last part of the sentence instead. "Just because I had an emotional response to something does not mean my entire day was emotional."

"Prowler. Ah appreciate your attempt t' convince meh t' frag ya, but not t'night. 'Kay?"

"I am not arguing, but why not?" Prowl frowned. He couldn't understand the Decepticon's logic; Jazz had continuously tried to wheedle Prowl into interfacing with him, and now suddenly... he didn't want to?"

Jazz seemed to read his mind. "It's not that Ah don't wanna, cutie pie. Trust meh, Ah do. But Ah'll wait 'till you're ready."

"That is.. unexpectedly considerate of you."

"Ah'm a gentlemech." Jazz curled up into Prowl's side.

"Cuddling hardly fits a Decepticon of your stature." The Autobot murmured wryly. "It lacks any sense of propriety."

"Propriety's f'r boring mechs." Jazz huffed. "An' we ain't boring mechs."

"No. No, I suppose we are not."


	7. Chapter 7

_"Did you hear? He's taken a name."_

_The silver mechling glanced up at the young femme who had whispered to him, before turning his gaze to the Cybertronian she had been talking about. "Yeah. Ah heard."_

_"Cleaver, he calls himself."_

_"Pretentious bastard." The mechling snorted._

_"Shhh!" The femme glanced around anxiously. "You know better than to speak ill of him."_

_Ignoring her words, the silver 'bot said "Have you been speaking with Theorem?"_

_The femme paused. "Yes. I presume you have too?"_

_"Yeah. Did he tell you-"_

_"To stop speaking like a civilised person? Yes, he did." She sighed, scratching at flaking, faded pink paint on her arms. "It's hard, but.."_

_"Yeah, I know." The young mech let out a bitter laugh. "My grandsire was from Polyhex. So I've been trying to copy his accent."_

_"Would that not make you stand out more?"_

_"No. Not really." He shrugged. "What about you?"_

_"I.. I don't know. My creators used to make my decisions for me."_

_The mechling almost snorted at that. The faded pink femme had barely been in the Crypt for a month. Her name had been Softspeed, but names were useless down here unless you chose them yourself. Softspeed had died, and this ghost of a femme was in her place. "Well, now you can do whatever you want."_

_"I used to always want to. Now.." The femling trailed off. "Now I just want my family."_

_After a moment of silence, the silver youngling sighed through his vents. "Yeah. Look, how about we both practice Polyhex accents?"_

_"Okay... But I don't know what a Polyhex accent sounds like."_

_"Just copy th' way Ah talk."_

_Upon hearing the mechling's entire speech pattern change, the femme giggled. "Okay."_

_"Highborn!"_

_The mechling stiffened as a large youngling - almost in his adult frame - approached them. "Great."_

_Smirking, the new arrival stopped right in front of the silver mech and pink femme. "How're you doing, buddy?"_

_His only response was a glare. "Wha' do ya want, Cleaver?"_

_Cleaver grinned. "Oh, you're practicing a new accent. You don't sound highborn anymore, do ya?"_

_The little femme had unconsciously begun to edge closer to her companion, who had started to growl. "Does it bother ya that ya'll have t' find a new name f'r meh?"_

_"Why would we pick a new name when the one we have bothers you so much?" Cleaver snickered. Though the big mech spoke fairly well, he was one of the densest mechs in the Crypt. But he was also one of the best torturers - physically and mentally. "Even when you pick your own name, no one's gonna use it. You'll always be Highborn."_

_Anger bubbled up inside of him, but the youngling didn't attack. He wouldn't let Cleaver rile him up so easily. "At least Ah won't be 'Cleaver'."_

_"What's that supposed to mean?" The large youngling roared, suddenly furious. "You got a problem with my name?"_

_The smaller youngling smiled sweetly. "Ya shouldn't let your temper get the better of you." His accent tapered off near the end of his sentence; he would definitely have to work on that._

_A huge, black fist was raised, ready to hit the smiling youngling who was still sitting cross-legged on the floor. Before Cleaver could strike him, however, another figure appeared at his shoulder. "I hope you are not entertaining the idea of infighting."_

_Cleaver froze, before slowly turning his head to meet Theorem's lethal glare. "No. Of course not."_

_"Good. You should return to your mentor. I believe he is looking for you." The black and green mech watched carefully as Cleaver disappeared into he crowd of younglings, all of whom were sitting or standing around the room waiting to be called by their mentors. Theorem turned his attention back to his own two students. "You must not antagonise him, Highborn. He will offline you with little to no effort."_

_"Why's he allowed t' antagonise meh of Ah can't antagonise him?" The mechling demanded, ignoring the femme as she listened carefully to every word he spoke, committing the accent to memory._

_Theorem nodded once in acknowledgment of the accent. "Because he is bigger and stronger."_

_"Why does that give him a right t' make others feel bad?"_

_"It gives him no right, it only allows him to get away with it." Theorem pulled his two students to their feet. "It's training time."_

_The femling made a barely audible whimper, but the silver one just nodded, resigned. "It ain't so bad once ya get used t' it." He told her quietly as they followed their mentor out of the large hall and down the dank halls towards the training wing. She said nothing, but the mechling hadn't expected her to. They were fairly weak words of comfort, after all._

_Theorem allowed the two younglings to enter the training room first before following them in. "Choose your weapons. Femme, you will wait until Highborn is finished with his lesson."_

_Scowling at the hated name, the youngling grabbed his favourite blade and crouched, ready for attack. "Why do ya keep callin' meh Highborn?"_

_"Does it make you angry?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"That is why." Theorem lunged sharply, stabbing his dagger at the youngling's sparkchamber. He stabbed at empty air, however; the youngling had disappeared in a streak of silver. "You must learn to control your anger."_

_"Yeah, yeah." He muttered disrespectfully, scowling. So quickly that it would have been missed of you hadn't been paying close attention, the youngling threw his blade at his mentor. The knife sliced right through Theorem's right optic, rendering it completely useless._

_The big mech didn't even scream - he just calmly pulled the blade out, wincing slightly at the gush of energon that flowed down his face. "You've been practicing throwing."_

_"Had to."_

_"Good." Was all that was said before the two lunged at each other again. To anyone else who was watching, it would have looked like a fight to the death; they kept aiming directly for sparks and main fuel lines._

_By the time Theorem called an end to their fight, they were both battered and bleeding and raw. "You've gotten better. Much better." The black and green mech narrowed his optics suspiciously. "Who have you been fighting with?"_

_"Ah ain't been fightin' wit' anyone."_

_Theorem frowned. "You are lying. Your optics are too expressive - they give away everything you're feeling. We'd better get you something to cover them up... Perhaps a visor."_

_"At least Ah managed t' keep both mah optics."_

_Theorem glared. "Nevertheless, you did well. Perhaps I should have started with the femme first." With a laugh, Theorem flicked a glob of congealed energon off his shoulder. "Ah well. You're free to go. Femling, your training session will be tomorrow instead."_

_The pink youngling nodded quickly and followed the older mechling out of the hell known as the training room. "Thank you."_

_The silver mechling didn't look at her. "For what?"_

_"For fighting like that. I know you were doing it so I wouldn't have to train."_

_After a moment of silence, the mechling spoke again, false accent gone. "I fought for myself. Not for you. Down here, you're on your own."_

_"You still fought for me though."_

_"Yeah. Guess I'm a slow learner. Or maybe I'm just stupid."_

_"I don't think you're stupid." The femme said quietly. "But I do think you should go see a medic. Those wounds look really painful."_

_"Yeah. Sure." It wasn't the wounds that were painful. It was the thought that they would be inflicted again and again, day in and day out, until he was finally able to escape the living hell that had become his life._

 

 

Prowl was silent as Jazz's memory file ended. The saboteur had buried his face into Prowl's chestplates, as though he was afraid of seeing his expression. "Jazz... I'm sorry."

"Stop tha'." He replied irritably. "Don' apologise f'r somethin' ya couldn' control."

Noting the fact that the Decepticon's accent had gotten stronger as he became upset, Prowl said "So, your accent is false."

With a sigh, Jazz propped his head up on black and white chestplates. "Not entirely. Ah've been usin' it for so long, Ah can barely remember how t' speak normally."

"Interesting." Prowl stored this information away in his 'Jazz' section of information to be examined later.

"Hold meh?"

"Pardon?"

"Please, Prowler? Can ya hold meh? It'd make meh feel better.."

Mildly uncertain, Prowl looped his arms around the small mech. Jazz eagerly snuggled into the tactician's warm embrace, ignoring how clearly awkward the larger mech was. "Like this?"

"Exactly like that, Prowler." Jazz murmured, burying his face in black and white armour. "Thanks."  
"It is quite alright. I believe that this is what 'friends' do for each other, is it not?"

With a little smile, Jazz nodded. "Yeah, cutie pie. It is."

They both fell into a comfortable silence. After a while, Prowl spoke again. "Have you heard from the Decepticons?"

There was a silence so long that Prowl was beginning to wonder whether or not Jazz was recharging, before the silver mech spoke. "No. Ah haven't."

"Do they not think it is strange that you have been gone for so long?"

"No. Ah go missin' lots. They get used t' it. Megatron knows there ain't really anythin' tying meh t' the Decepticon cause, but he knows Ah'll keep coming back."

"Why do you keep going back?" Prowl's voice was almost a whisper.

Air tickled black and white chestplates as Jazz sighed through his vents. "Ah don't know, Prowler. Guess Ah just... don't know where else t' go."

"You have here." The tactician reminded him. "Prime himself allowed you to be here."

"Let's not talk 'bout this, 'Kay?"

Prowl held back a sigh. Whenever he tried to talk to Jazz about alliances, the Decepticon either withdrew or sank into a dark mood, which he would snap out o as suddenly as he had gotten into it. "Very well."

"Thank ya." Jazz sighed against his berthmate. He hated the idea of leaving Prowl to go back to the Decepticons, but he knew it had to be done. It had to be done. "Do ya like meh, Prowler?"

The tactician didn't even blink at the seemingly random question. He was far too used to Jazz's strange quirks by now. "Of course. I find you interesting and pleasant company."

"Hmmm.." The saboteur hummed softly as he traced circles in Prowl's plating with his claws. "That all?"

Prowl paused, but before he could speak a large 'BOOM' shook the entire building. Jazz shot into a sitting position, his previously lax body going completely tense. The Praxian barely batted an optic shutter. "It seems like Wheeljack had returned."

"Wha'? Wha' was that? You okay? We should get outside in case it happens again-"

"Calm down." The pure irony of Prowl having to tell Jazz to calm down made the tactician's lips twitch upwards. "Wheeljack is our resident scientist. He... has a penchant for explosions."

The Decepticon didn't relax. "How come there's never been any explosions b'fore?"

"Wheeljack was in Tyger Pax, helping our other scientist Perceptor invent new weapons. He only returned this morning." With a sigh, Prowl swung his legs off the berth and stood up gracefully. "I had better go and check on him."

"Aw Prowler, d'ya have t'? Can't ya just come back t' berth?" With a whine, Jazz stretched his arms towards his berthmate.

"I am afraid not. I have a certain responsibility towards Wheeljack; I vouched for him when he first joined the Autobots."

"Urgh." Jazz rolled off the berth carelessly, before picking himself up and trotting after Prowl towards the door. On the way, he changed the optical sensors in his visor to refract blue instead of red and turned his signal disrupted on so that his spark signature registered as an Autobot.

Prowl led the way down the halls, ignoring the 'bots who were sticking their heads out of their rooms and smirking. "Wheeljack's lab is down here."

"Yeah..." Jazz eyed the scorch marks on the hallway walls curiously as they reached the lab. The wall had been blown right through, and the two mech's had to climb over the rubble to get to the remains of the lab. "Primus. Is the mech screwed in the processors?"

Prowl hushed him disapprovingly as he peered into the smoking room. "Wheeljack? Are you hurt?"

A flashing audio fin poked up out of the debris, closely followed by a grey faceplate covered by a battlemask. "I'm alright! I wasn't expecting the chemicals to react that way..."

"Of course you weren't." Prowl replied wryly, moving to help Wheeljack.

Deciding to hang back, Jazz watched his friend help the scientist out from beneath the debris. He said nothing, practically biting his glossa to keep from making a sarcastic remark.

"Hey! Heard the explosion! We didn't realise you were back already!" Someone cheered from the door. Jazz glanced around to see Sideswipe grinning at the scientist. "I was wondering if you could make me a machine that blows bubbles. Not just bubbles though; ones that stick to you and don't pop! It'll be awesome!" The red frontliner twin seemed to notice Prowl glaring at him. "Oh. Didn't see you there."

How could he not see Prowl?, Jazz shrieked in his mind. Prowl is perfect! He's beautiful!

"I shall pretend I did not hear that." With another glare, the Praxian moved back over to Jazz. "If this 'prank' of yours happens, I will lock you in the brig forever."

A giggle escaped Jazz's vocaliser, drawing the other Autobots' attentions. Wheeljack's optics ridges raised in mild surprise when he noticed him. "Oh. Hello! Who are you?"

The saboteur didn't miss the panicked twitch of Prowl's doorwings, even though his facial expression remained the exact same. "Mah name's.. uh.. Softspeed."

Prowl glanced at Jazz warily, recognising the name. ::The femme from the Crypt?::

There was no answer from the Decepticon as he forced a smile, staring straight at Wheeljack. "Nice t' meetcha."

"Uh.. I thought your name was Rumble..?" Sideswipe spoke up, frowning curiously.

::Slag.::

The black and white mech barely refrained from wincing. "It.. Rumble is his nickname."

"You... You seriously gave him a nickname?" A huge grin split across Sideswipe's face. "No way! I've gotta tell Sunny!"  
"Sideswipe-" Prowl began, but gave up as the red frontliner disappeared out the no-longer existing door. He turned back to Wheeljack, who was eyeing the two curiously; it was hard to tell, but it looked as though the invented was smiling behind his mask. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. I've never see you before, Softspeed." Wheeljack smiled at Jazz.

"Well-"

Prowl interrupted him, ignoring the glare he received for it. "He is new. We must go now, Wheeljack. I believe Ratchet will be looking for you."

"Maybe we could.. not tell him?"

"Not tell me?" Everyone but Jazz flinched at the angry growl that came from the red and white medic who had appeared in the doorway. " _Not tell me_?!"

"Oh.. Hey Ratch'." Wheeljack laughed nervously, looking distinctly terrified.

"We were just leaving." Prowl announced suddenly, grabbing Jazz's arm and pulling him out of the destroyed lab.

Temporarily blue optics widened in surprise behind his visor as the medic whacked Wheeljack over the head with a wrench. "Is he even allowed t' do that? Ah would'a thought it was against some Autobot rule or somethin'." Jazz said as he allowed himself to be pulled down the corridor.

"Would you like to argue with him?" Prowl replied as they reached the rec. room.

Eyeing the door in surprise, Jazz turned to look at the doorwinged mech. "What're we doin' here?"

"Well, I believed you may want to get out of my quarters for a while."

"That's nice o' ya Prowler, but Ah like yo' quarters."

"Yes, but it is not good for you to spend so much time in there." Prowl opened the door and led the way inside, professionally ignoring the curious glanced they gained. "I do not wish for you to be reminded of that place lest you-"

"Slip back into mah homicidal tendencies?"

Simultaneously rolling his optics and glaring at Jazz took an exceptional amount of skill, but Prowl managed it. "Yes."

The Decepticon giggled and followed his obsession into a booth, sitting right beside the larger mech and smiling up at him. "Ya secretly love meh."

"Jazz." The sigh was tired and exasperated, but it was still said with a small smile. "Hush."

"Prowl!"

Both mechs glanced around to see another Praxian making his way over and grinning. Prowl nodded in greeting as the new mech slid into the seat opposite them. "Smokescreen. How are you?"

"Good, good. You must be Rumble." Smokescreen gave Jazz a friendly smile.

"Softspeed, actually."

Smokescreen's smile flickered slightly. "Oh. Blue said-"

"Rumble's mah nickname." Jazz shrugged casually.

"Oh, I see. How did you get a nickname like Rumble?"

::Any ideas?:: Jazz sent to Prowl along with a sidelong look.

"He has an ego so large it has the ability to create seismic activity." Prowl supplied, ignoring the glare he received.

"Prowler is jus' awful at flirtin'." Jazz shook his head and mock-sighed. "He's gettin' better, though."  
Carefully stifling a snigger, Smokescreen glanced between the two of them. "So.. It's true?"

"What is true?" Prowl frowned, deliberately ignoring Jazz as the smaller mech playfully cuddled him.

"You two." Smokescreen gestured at the pair in front of him. "Blue was telling us that you were a couple now."

Prowl didn't do anything as undignified as splutter, but he certainly felt like it, particularly as Jazz grinned widely. Instead, the Praxian's doorwings fluttered irritably. "No. We are not."

Irritated, Jazz shot him a look, but said nothing. Smokescreen noticed, and raised an optic ridge. "I see. So there's no truth to the rumours at all?"

Slightly uncomfortable, Jazz frowned again behind his visor. Even though he had technically gotten permission from the Prime himself to be here, Jazz had no wish to draw any unnecessary attention to himself through rumours. "Wha' rumours?"

"The rumours that Prowl has finally managed to find someone willing to frag him."

With a tilt of his helm, Jazz shot the other mech a cheeky grin. "You tellin' meh that there's mechs here that wouldn't be willin' ta frag Prowler?"

"Hard as that may be to believe." Smokescreen laughed.

"Huh. Weird. Ah thought everyone'd be linin' up fer a piece o' Praxian aft."

A sharp 'smack' sounded as Prowl hit the Decepticon over the head. "Jazz!"

Smokescreen's optics ridges shot up. "'Jazz'? I thought your name was Softspeed..?"

The saboteur leaned back with a grin, waiting for Prowl to come up with an excuse. With barely a pause, the tactician spoke up. "It is. I merely got confused for a moment."

The very idea of Prowl getting confused, even for a moment, was so ludicrous it caused Smokescreen to snort his energon across the table. "What? Prowl, do I even have to remind you that I'm a psychiatrist?"

The word 'psychiatrist' caused Jazz to frown uneasily and lean back in order to put distance between himself and Smokescreen. He didn't say anything, but his discomfort was clear to see by Prowl. Wordlessly, the tactician tilted his head in a silent question. Jazz answered with a nod, and Prowl turned back to Smokescreen. "We are going to leave now."

"So soon?" Smokescreen asked, before sighing resignedly. "Alright. So long as you don't go back to your office; you work too much to be healthy."

With a roll of his optics, Prowl pulled Jazz to his feet and led him to the door. Once they were outside in the corridor, Jazz glanced to his friend and smiled wryly. "Thanks, cutie pie."

"Would you like to explain your adverse reaction to Smokescreen's profession?"

That earned Prowl a mildly disbelieving stare. "Prowler, Ah'm a homicidal psychopath with sadistic tendencies. Can ya imagine what a psychiatrist would think of me?"

"I dread to think." In fact, it gave him a processor ache.

Jazz laughed, but it didn't sound very amused. "Yeah. Can we just go back t' our quarters? Ah'm tired."

"My quarters." Prowl corrected, but there wasn't conviction in his voice. "Yes, we can. You know, if you would simply defect we could get you your own quarters."

A truly amused laugh burst out of Jazz's mouth. "Oh Prowled, why would Ah want mah own quarters when Ah can share yours?"

"You are impossible."

"Ya love meh, though."

With a roll of his optics, Prowl stopped in front of his quarters and entered in the key code. "That would be illogical." he said, walking into his now-shared quarters.

Jazz grinned and strolled in after him. "O' course. Love is an illogical thing, an' Ah'm an illogical person."

"Yes, I realise that. Although I must say, I do not think you are quite as bad as you believe you are."

"Actually... Ah'm pretty bad, Prowler. But.. Ah think you're helpin'."

"Helping?"

"Yeah." Jazz threw his body back onto the berth, managing to make the move look perfectly practiced and graceful. He smiled and reached out, tugging Prowl down to lie beside him. "Helpin'. Ya make meh feel less.."

"Psychopathic? Sadistic? Unstable?"

"Unstable's a good word, let's go wit' that." With a grin, Jazz burrowed into the bigger mech's side. "When Ah was away from ya f'r those few days, Ah could feel mahself goin' even more insane. Ah killed twenty seven Vehicons, and in that battle, b'fore Ah saw ya again, Ah killed seventeen neutrals. Not t' mention others. When Ah slip into one o' mah murder hazes, details get confused... Ah killed some o' mah own faction too.."

Prowl frowned as Jazz slipped into one of his 'Decepticon' hazes. "Jazz.. Look at me." He instructed. He was startled at the look of insanity that was reflected in the red visor. "It will be okay. You simply need to make sure it does not happen again."

Jazz snorted humourlessly. "Then don' leave meh."

"I was not planning on doing so."

"Good." The saboteur whispered quietly, curling up to the larger frame of Prowl, who wrapped an arm unthinkingly around him.

Within moments they had fallen into recharge together, as they had every night for the last couple of months.


	8. Chapter 8

"Prowl?"

The tactician glanced up to see Spectrum poking his helm around his office door. "Can I help you?"

The iridescently silver mech smiled somewhat shyly and entered the room fully, pulling up a chair and sitting opposite Prowl. "I was just wondering if you were busy?"

"Of course I am busy. I have reports to file, and battle plans to devise, and lectures to compose-"

"I know," Spectrum hurriedly interrupted, "You're a busy mech, of course. I was simply wondering if you wanted to come and grab some energon with me?"

That caught him off-guard. "What?"

A light blue blush coloured Spectrum's silver cheeks. "If you want to. I mean.. Just one cube..?"

"Oh." Prowl struggled to think quickly, but his battle computer didn't seem to know what to do. "Ahh... I think it would be best if I stayed to do my work."

"Oh. Oh, sure. I understand completely. It's just... You hardly ever get out anymore. You're always in your office or your quarters. It can't be healthy to be alone so much."

It is a good thing I am not alone, Prowl mused silently. "I appreciate your concern, Spectrum."

The saboteur nodded and smiled shyly, blue optics twinkling. "Even if you don't want to tonight, maybe some other time?"

"Perhaps." Prowl allowed, bowing his head.

His acquiescence seemed to give Spectrum a burst of confidence; the Special Ops mech planted a kiss on Prowl's cheek, before standing and practically running out of the room, giggling.

Prowl sat there and stared after him in shock. Had he just.. kissed him?! Only Jazz did that! Prowl couldn't help but find himself feeling annoyed - only Jazz was permitted to do something like that to him, and only because the Decepticon refused to listen to him. Plus, the kiss had felt different - his cheek didn't feel tingly where the kiss had been planted, like Jazz's lips usually made him feel. "Jazz is going to kill him." He murmured, returning to his report with an amused smile.

...

It was an hour and a half later when Prowl returned to his quarters, tired and stressed. As he typed in the keycode, he couldn't help but feel relief build up inside him at the thought of seeing Jazz.

The door slid open, revealing the Decepticon carelessly sprawled across the berth. Upon hearing the door, he sat up and focused his red visored gaze on Prowl. A grin split across his face and he jumped to his feet. "Prowler! 'Bout time you're back, Ah was goin' outta mah mind!"

Prowl smiled tiredly as the smaller mech bounced over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "My apologies. You can come with me next time, if you like- what's wrong?"

The saboteur had pulled back, his lips twisted downwards in a frown. "Ya smell wrong."

"I.. What?"

"Did.." Jazz took a step forwards and sniffed at Prowl, whilst the tactician watched him bewilderedly. "Were yo' wit' someone else?"

"What? Of course not."

"Ya have someone else's smell on your cheek." Suspiciously, Jazz stepped back.

"Jazz-"

The silver mech stepped out of reach as Prowl tried stretch out his arms towards him. "Who was it?"

"You are being ridiculous. I will tell you what happened-"

"Then tell meh!"

"I am trying!"

With a scowl, Jazz folded his arms. "Then go ahead."

"Spectrum came into my office-"

"SPECTRUM?!" Jazz exploded. "YA FRAGGED SPECTRUM?!"

"No! Do you even hear yourself-"

"HOW IS HE BETTER THAN ME? AH'VE BEEN TRYIN' T' GET YA T' FRAG MEH FOR MONTHS, BUT SPECTRUM COMES AND YA DO IT INSTANTLY?!"

Prowl reached out and grabbed the angry Decepticon, carefully avoiding getting scratched by sharp claws. "Jazz! Listen to me! You are being completely irrational! I did not interface with Spectrum!"

Like flicking on a light switch, Jazz relaxed and stopped trying to claw at the Praxian. "Good. Continue wit' the story then."

Once, Prowl would have crashed from the suddenness of the mood swing, but Jazz and his strange ways had become almost familiar to him. So he continued. "He came into my office and asked me if I wanted to get some energon with him-"

"But Ah got energon f'r us." Jazz pointed behind him, at two cubes sitting on the table.

"Oh. Thank you, that was very kind of you. Anyway, I said no."

Annoyed, Jazz snarled. "He had no right t' ask ya out. Yer mine." He clutched at the Praxian's larger frame possessively.

Resisting the urge to roll his optics (barely), Prowl nodded and patted the unstable mech's back. "Yes, of course. He asked me if I would consider getting energon another night, and I said perhaps-"

"Perhaps?" Jazz drew back, glaring up at Prowl.

"Naturally, I have no intention of doing so." The tactician said smoothly. "Even so, he seemed very happy and kissed me on the cheek."

A low growl rumbled out of Jazz's chassis as he glared at the offending cheek. "Ah'm gonna tear him t' pieces."

"I think you are overreacting." Prowl said, although he couldn't help but feel pleased that Jazz was so protective, even though he could take care of himself.

With a snarl, the Decepticon pulled the larger mech over to the berth, before pushing him down. Ignoring the raised optic ridge, Jazz crawled on top of Prowl and straddled his hips. "Ah don't want his smell on ya."

"I am certain that you are the only one able to smell him on me, considering we were barely in contact-" his sentence was cut short as Jazz crushed his mouth to his, locking him in a passionate kiss.

Prowl didn't even protest as Jazz began grinding against him; he couldn't bring himself to say 'no' to the mech who had become his closest companion - 'enemy' or not. "Mm.."

"Prowler.." Jazz murmured into the kiss, his fingers leisurely stroking down his body as he groaned. The tactician watched, enraptured, as Jazz stroked and rubbed his own armour, easily finding his own sensitive spots. "Want ya, Prowler."

The Praxian could only gasp into Jazz's mouth as he silver mech began to grind their panels together. "This is.. Jazz.. This is hardly- ah!" He yelped at Jazz abruptly groped his crotch.

A giggle erupted from the Decepticon. "Wha' was that?"

Surprisingly, Prowl growled and pulled Jazz down closer to him before kissing him passionately in return. With a moan, Jazz melted against the larger mech. Not even the knock that came on the door could distract them from each other.

But the second, third, fourth and fifth knock caused Prowl to frown and draw away from the saboteur, who whined. "Who is it?"

"Prowl? It's Bluestreak."

"One moment." The tactician called, moving to get up.

"Whoa, whoa, no way! C'mon, we were about t' finally frag! Please Prowler!" Jazz whined, pawing pleadingly at the black and white mech as he stood up.

"Jazz, please be mature. Bluestreak is like my own creation." He pleaded, glancing back to the visored mech as he reached the door. Pouting, Jazz folded his arms and scowled childishly. "Can you please turn your Autobot signal disruptor on, please?"

There was silence, and for a long moment it looked as though Jazz wasn't going to comply. "Fine." He mumbled at last, the dark ruby of his visor lightening to blue.

"Get off the berth." Prowl added as an afterthought, before opening the door to Bluestreak.

The young sniper beamed as he stepped in, although his smile faltered in confusion when he caught sight of the mech laying sprawled out on his mentors berth. "Oh. Hi Rumble."

Given Jazz's laugh and cheery wave, his annoyance had been forgotten. "How're ya doin', Blue?"

"Good, thank you! I mean, my arm is kinda sore 'cause I had to get it fixed, and my head is a bit sore 'cause Ratchet hit me with a wrench, but other then that I'm-"

"Why did you need to get your arm fixed?" Prowl frowned. If one was unfamiliar with the mech's facial expressions, it would have looked neutrally interested - but for Jazz, who had been watching the Praxian intently for the past couple of months, the concern shining in those bright blue optics was clear as the crystal they were made from.

"Oh.. Um.. Me and Cliffjumper-"

"Cliffjumper and I." The correction was a reflex, and Prowl winced when he realised it had slipped out.

"Right, right. Cliffjumper and I were sparring, and-"

"Cliffjumper hurt you?"

From the berth, Jazz laughed and shook his head. "Let 'im finish, Prowler."

Bluestreak smiled uncertainly at the mech. "Right. Well, I was sparring with Cliff and as we were like.. punching each other, Cliff somehow managed to challenge me - I don't really know how - to see how long I could stick my arm into the Dinobots nest for. Um.. Snarl woke up and I think my arm scared him a little and he-"

"Why would you do something so illogical and... stupid?" demanded Prowl, ignoring Jazz's maniacal grin.

Bluestreak, however, seemed more than slightly unnerved by Jazz's insane expression. "Um.. Are you okay-?"

Before Jazz even got a chance to open his mouth, Prowl answered. "Far from it."

"Aw Prowler, ya love mah insanity." The Decepticon-in-disguise teased, grin never faltering.

"It gives me processor aches."

"The good kind?"

"What kind of processor ache is a good kind?"

"The kind Ah give ya. Obviously."

Their entire exchange was watched quietly by Bluestreak, who seemed curiously amused. "So... Are you two-"

"No!" Momentarily allowing his frustration to get the better of him, Prowl covered his face with his hands. "For Primus' sake, we are not interfacing!"

"Almost." Jazz whispered conspiratorially to the gunner. "In fact, we were very close t' doin' the dirty tango b'fore ya knocked."

A sound almost like a hiss of anger escaped Prowl as Bluestreak's optics widened in surprise. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were busy! You could have told me, I wouldn't have-"

"We were not about to-!"

"Y'know, now that I think about it, I heard noises from in here when I was outside the door! I should have known what they were, it just didn't occur to me because.. it was your room."

::Jazz! I told you to behave!::

::No, ya told meh t' be mature. Ah was havin' a mature conversation with Blue::

"You are like a sparkling!" Prowl growled furiously.

Suddenly, Bluestreak looked distraught. "Oh, no! I didn't mean to make you fight! Please don't be mad at Rumble!"

"Hey, thanks f'r stickin' up f'r meh, Blue."

"That's alright, Rumble."

Rubbing his face again, Prowl groaned into his hands. "Damnit, Ja- Rumble, can you not just be well behaved? Just one time I ask you?"

"Ah prefer t' be naughty."

That managed to extract another groan from Prowl. It also caused Bluestreak to smile; he hadn't ever seen anyone manage to wring such reactions from his mentor ever. The tactician shook his helm tiredly. "Would you ever just-"

"Ah'd rather not in front o' li'l Blue here."

"Ja- stop it!"

"You know, I'd better go..." Bluestreak couldn't help his grin as he edged towards the door. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye, Rumble."

"See ya, Blue." Jazz sang cheerfully as the little Praxian left the room.

The moment the door closed behind Bluestreak's wings, Prowl whirled around angrily. "What was that?!" He demanded, optics flashing furiously.

"Wha'? Ah was talkin' t' Blue-"

"I told you to be mature! Bluestreak is like my own creation - I have no wish for him to see me in a different light-"

"Prowler, c'mon. Calm down." Jazz pushed himself off the berth and sashayed over to the tactician. "Don' be mad, cutie pie."

"Do not call me that when I am mad at you!"

Pouting, Jazz reached up and ran his talented servos over the black and white's doorwings. "Aw, Prowler. Ya look so hot when you're angry."

"Jazz-" Prowl began angrily, but Jazz locked their mouths together in another kiss, almost swallowing the others glossa. "Mmf!"

Jazz scowled when he was pushed away. "Prowler!"

"Jazz, I am angry at you!" With a huff through his vents, Prowl rubbed his chevron tiredly. "Next time I ask you to behave, do it!"

With a whine, Jazz dropped his head against Prowl's shoulder. "Ah will, promise! Don' be mad, baby. Please?"

After a moment, Prowl crumbled. "Fine." He didn't know how Jazz could crawl under his plating with such ease, but the saboteur was the only one able to do so.

Jazz brightened up immediately. "Good! Berth?" He grabbed the larger mech's hand and attempted to tug him towards the berth.

"Wait." Prowl commanded, pulling the Decepticon back to him. "I need your word that that you will be on your best behaviour around Bluestreak from this moment on. He is barely old enough to know what interface means, never mind talk about it."

"He 'faced those twins, di'nt he?"

Prowl's dangerous growl made it clear that this was not a topic he wanted to discuss. "That was the Twins' fault; Bluestreak would not do such an irresponsible thing. Anyway, I still wish for your word."

"Fine, fine. Ah promise. Berth?"

"Nothing will happen tonight."

"Alright." Jazz sighed dramatically, pulling the Praxian with him. "Tomorrow?"

"Do not push your luck."

"Wouldn't dream o' it, Prowler."

...

"Prowler-"

"Jazz, I have to-"

"No, ya don't!" Jazz exclaimed frustratedly. "Ya can stay here, where it's safe!"

"You must realise how ridiculous you sound. I am Head of the Tactical Division! I must go into battle in order to direct the troops into the most efficient-"

"Damn it Prowler, at least let meh go wit'ya! Ah'll fend off all the big mean and nasties!"

"Jazz, you are not coming and that is final."

There was a bang as Jazz slammed his fist angrily on top of the desk. "Prowl! Ah'm not gonna let ya dive into battle-"

"This will hardly be my first fight, Jazz. I HAVE been in a battle before!" Despite his best efforts, Prowl was beginning to lose his infamous patience.

With an angry growl, Jazz pushed himself away from the desk. They had been arguing for close to an hour, since Prowl had gotten word that it was likely the Autobots would be called for battle tomorrow outside of Simfur, where the Decepticons were allegedly preparing an ambush on the city. "Prowler baby, please listen t' me. It's dangerous, an'-"

"We are in the middle of a war, Jazz. Everything we do is dangerous. As Head Tactician, it is my responsibility to ensure the battle plan used is the least damaging to the Autobot ranks as possible-"

"Ah get that, seriously Ah do, but- look Prowler, if ya die, Ah don't know what Ah'd do. Ah think Ah'd go insane. Again. An' if Ah go insane again, Ah don't know how many people Ah could hurt."

"Jazz-"

"No really, Prowler. Ah'm bein' serious. Ah need ya here, with me."

"My responsibility to the Autobots-"

"Wha' about yo' responsibility t' meh?" Jazz's accent grew stronger as he got upset; he had been trained to keep the accent in times of severe stress, so it only got stronger when he was under strain. "Y'promised Prime you'd look afta meh."

"You are a grown mech. You do not need anyone to look after you."

"Prowl! Just-"

"No, that is enough." Spreading his hands across his desk, Prowl frowned across the room at the saboteur, who had begun to pace. "Jazz, I will lock you in the brig until I get back if I have to. If you come, you will only put yourself in harms way-"

A sarcastic snort exploded from Jazz's chassis, and his visor flared angrily. "Oh, now it's 'bout mah safety? Mech, are ya completely glitched?"

"No, only partially."

"Ugh!" Jazz whirled on his heel and paced the room. Suddenly, he stopped as though something had just occurred to him. "Ah'll leave."

"Pardon?"

"Ah'll leave an' go back t' Megatron if ya leave meh here."

Prowl sighed and pinched his olfactory sensor. "Not only is that an incredibly immature thing to say or do, but it also contradicts everything you have said to me since our argument began."

"We are not arguin'."

"I believe this qualifies as an argument."

"We ain't arguin'! We're havin' a grown up debate."

"I believe now we are arguing about whether or not we are arguing."

"Shut the frag up, Prowl."

With a sigh, the tactician pushed himself up off his seat and glided over to Jazz. When he put his hands on a silver shoulder, however, it was shrugged off immediately and the smaller mech turned his back on him and glared at the wall. "Jazz, look at me." When he received no response, he decided to take a new course of action. Mimicking Jazz, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to the saboteurs shoulder.

That got a reaction. "Th' frag're ya doin'? Ah'm mad at ya." Jazz hissed, moving to pull out off Prowl's grip.

"I do not wish you to be." Prowl replied, kissing Jazz's shoulder again, before pressing another soft kiss to the Decepticon's neck cables. "I apologise for upsetting you."

Slowly, Jazz leaned backwards so his back was pressed agains Prowl's chassis. The black and white mech rumbled his chassis in an apologetic sort of way, and Jazz had to force himself not to smile. "Ya could make meh happier if ya didn't go."

"You know I have to."

"Yeah.. Ah know."

They both fell into a comfortable silence. Prowl began rocking back and forth, creating a soothing rhythm that had Jazz almost in recharge in his arms. Neither said anything for a long time; they were perfectly content to be silent in each others presence. After a while, Jazz turned his head to the side and nuzzled Prowl's cheek. "Time f'r berth?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Good." Jazz stretched, following Prowl out of his office and down the corridor. "Ah'm tired."

"As am I." The tactician murmured as Jazz took his hand. As they reached Prowl's quarters, Jazz realised he had forgotten to change the colour of his visor; thankfully, they had not encountered anyone in the hallways. The door slid open and Prowl tugged his companion into the room. "Go to berth."

"Prowler." Jazz whined. "Ain't ya comin'?"

"Yes, in just a moment." He assured, gently nudging Jazz towards the berth before turning to his datapads and beginning to organise them alphabetically.

Jazz watched him in mild disbelief from the berth. "Again? Mech, you already organised them in order I' importance this mornin'."

"I realise that."

"Prowler, come here now." Jazz commanded forcefully.

After a moment of hesitation, Prowl sighed and obeyed; the silver Decepticon almost pulled his arm out of his socket when he tugged Prowl down onto the berth. "Jazz, be careful-"

"Ah can't recharge 'less you're here." The Decepticon murmured, curling up into Prowl. "Now shush. Ah need mah beauty rest."

With an amused snort, Prowl rearranged his doorwings and offlined his optics. "Good night."

"Nighty night, cutie pie." Jazz kissed the larger mech's chestplates, before activating his recharge protocols.

The next morning, Prowl made sure Jazz was still firmly in recharge before pulling a pair of stasis cuffs from his subspace. In absolute silence borne from years of experience, the tactician cuffed the Decepticon to the berth.

The Autobots left for battle in twenty minutes, and Prowl was not going to be late. The last thing he thought before leaving the room was 'Primus, Jazz is going to kill me when I get back'


	9. Chapter 9

As Jazz stirred awake, he became aware of several things. The first was that the warm presence of Prowl was missing from beside him. The astrosecond he became fully awake, Jazz ran a swift spark signature diagnostic; Prowl was not present anywhere in the building.

The second thing was that his arm was handcuffed to the headboard of Prowl's berth. An angry snarl ripped out of Jazz's vocaliser as he tugged the cuffs experimentally, testing their strength. "Damn it!"

It was plain to see that Prowl had left, and that more than anything bothered Jazz. With a curious noise that sounded like a whimper mixed with a growl, he jerked his hand so hard the cuffs cut his wrist. The metal bent and warped, and the cuffs snapped under the pressure. Barely noticing his bleeding wrist, Jazz tumbled off the berth and stumbled to the door. "Slag it, slag it, slag it.."

Even as he wandered around the Autobot base, alone and Prowl-less, no one seemed to notice how out of place he was. Even with his visor coloured blue, his very presence didn't seem to quite fit with the Autobot spirit. After wandering down a few more corridors, desperately searching for his Prowl, Jazz came across a young looking flier headed the same way as him. "Hey! Wait!"

The winged mech turned around, blinking in surprise upon seeing Jazz racing towards him. "Ah- hello?" He squeaked uncertainly as Jazz skidded to a stop in front of him. "Are you okay?"

"Where's Prowl?"

"I- what?"

"Prowl! Where is he?!" Jazz's unconsciously raised his voice in panic, having to forcefully prevent himself from lashing out at the small Autobot.

"He- didn't he go to the battle outside Simfur..? It's only a small battle, so Optimus said that minibots and the Aerialbots can hang back here in case they need backup. Um... We had a briefing on this.. Don't you remember?"

Jazz didn't deign to give an answer; he whirled on his heel and followed the schematics he had downloaded of the base to the main exit.

He would get to Prowl or die trying.

...

The battle was in full swing when Jazz arrived, and it was clear the Autobot he had encountered had been correct; the battle was not as large and devastating as most of the battles had been so far. The damage to the area was mostly superficial, and would be cleaned up easily.

But it wasn't the area Jazz cared about.

The saboteur raced and bounded through broken buildings and over the occasional injured or offlined frame as he searched for his Prowler. He could sense his spark signature; the only difficulty would be finding him in a sea of battling bodies.

As Jazz sprinted past a dilapidated old building, a hand shot out and snatched him by one of his shoulder vents. A startled snarl left his vocaliser as he was yanked into the building. "Get off!" He lashed out, and felt his claws find purchase on someone's faceplates. The building Jazz had been pulled into was dark, but he could still make out the features of the mech in front of him as the mech hissed in pain and took a step back. "Wait.. 'Tex?"

Vortex glared at him, holding a hand up to his bleeding cheek. "Damn, Jazz. Can't you recognise your allies anymore?"

"Ah- Ah'm undercover, 'Tex! What do ya think you're doin'?!" His voice hitched slightly in his stress, but his accent didn't falter.

"I can see that by the colour of your visor, but we haven't seen you for months! We thought you had gotten captured by the Autoscum!"

"Well, Ah'm fine!" Jazz hissed. "Ah'm gonna go now!"

"Jazz, wait!"

"Vortex, Ah told ya b'fore! Just 'cause we 'faced, don't mean there's any emotional attachment!"

The interrogator scowled, pulling his arm back from where he had been reaching for Jazz. "I never said nothing about an emotional attachment! You were a good frag, is all."

Shooting him a sharp smile, Jazz turned to the door. "That's what they all say."

"What you're doing is dangerous."

"O' course."

"Megatron wants you back again." Vortex sighed, ignoring Jazz's blasé attitude towards his own safety. "You're his best saboteur!"

"Ah'm one o' his on'y saboteurs." Jazz pointed out irritably. "An' right now, Ah have t' go."

"But why?!" The 'copter hissed. "You do realise that you're next in line to become Third in Command?"

"Ah'm undercover! Ah ain't gonna repeat mahself again! Ah'm leavin' now." Jazz shot him another glare, and loped out the door before Vortex could say another word. He had no doubt that the combiner had informed his entire gestalt of his encounter with Jazz already, so saboteur sped up his search for his Prowl.

As he ran past suburban houses that had been more or less destroyed by gunfire, Jazz found himself subconsciously searching for survivors. Even though the battle was reportedly a small one, the death rate seemed to be climbing higher and higher. There seemed to be no sign of life.

As if to correct Jazz's thoughts, a blur of colour streaked towards him and Jazz found himself being tackled onto the sidewalk by a youngling painted an offensive yellow colour. "Agh!" The Decepticon had to forcefully offline his battle protocols as they fought to surface. "What the frag!"

"Help me, please!" The youngling wailed. "My creators- I don't know where they are! They said they'd come back but-"

"Shush!" Jazz hissed, sitting up and looking around sharply. "Primus, are ya tryin' t' attract attention?"

The youngling's optics welled up with coolant tears and he shook his head fearfully. "I'm sorry." He whispered, climbing off Jazz's frame so that the adult mech could sit up fully. "B-but you're an Autobot, right? C-can you help me?"

For a split second, Jazz forgot he was projecting an Autobot spark signature and sporting a blue visor. "Wh- oh! Yeah, sure Ah am. Er... When did you last see your parents?"

With a little sniffle, the youngling blinked back his tears before they could spill down his face. "Earlier on. Th-they said they were j-just going out to f-f-find a safe place to hide, b-but they didn't come back."

_Dead,_ Jazz's pessimistic side sang. "Ah see.. Look, it's gonna be just fine. Ya c'n come wit' me." Naturally, Jazz was only doing this because appearing in front of the Autobots with a rescued youngling would surely impress Prowl, as well as gaining the trust and admiration of several other mechs. And if anyone were to claim he was actually softening up enough to help an orphaned youngling, he would kill them. Messily and painfully.

"Thank you." Another sniff, and the youngling held out his arms to Jazz expectantly.

"Wha'?" Jazz asked suspiciously.

"A-aren't you going to carry me?"

"Why on Cybertron would Ah do that? Ya got two perfectly good leg struts, don't ya?" The minute the words were out, the youngling's lower lip started to quiver. "Oh Primus, don't cry.. Hey, c'mon bud! No need t' cry.. Oh, fine!"

With a squeal, the youngling clasped onto Jazz's neck as the silver mech picked him up. Small legs wrapped around his waist, and the youngling snuggled into Jazz's frame as he started walking. Not for the first time, Jazz wondered how 'bots would react if they knew who he really was; psychopathic, sadistic, homicidal, remorseless. He wondered how they would look at him - probably the same as they had looked at him when he had first emerged from the Crypt.

They were both silent as Jazz carried the youngling through the streets; the little yellow 'bot seemed to be observing the damage to the streets around him, and Jazz simply allowed him to do so in silence. "Are my creators dead?" His small voice asked suddenly, loud in the silence.

The saboteur stiffened. "... Ah don't know, kid. They could have made it out." Jazz didn't know why he was lying, only that he didn't want to upset the youngling.

There was no sound as the youngling buried his face into Jazz's neck. "I think they're dead." He whispered.

Without thinking, Jazz began rubbing the youngling's back comfortingly. "Ya don't know that, kiddo. But don't worry - Ah'm bringin' ya t' the Autobots. Th- we'll keep ya safe."

"Thank you" was the last thing the youngling whimpered before offlining his optics and taking a light stasis nap in Jazz's arms.

It was some time before Jazz heard the sound of fighting again and though he was tired from carrying the youngling all this way, he ran the rest of the way to the battlefield. Putting all his saboteur skills into edging around the sidelines of the battle, Jazz ran to where Prowl's sparkbeat was emanating from.

The tactician was standing away from the battle, surveying the troops and every individual soldier, his battle computer almost visibly spitting out plans and formations. Even as one soldier got injured, Prowl instructed another mech to take their place over the comm. links, all the while watching for any way to prevent any casualties.

With barely a moments hesitation, Jazz began to stride towards him. Clearly, a lot of mechs were watching out for the tactician, because Jazz barely got within twenty metres of him before a huge, tank-like red mech blocked his way. "Hold it. Who're ya?"

Barely suppressing a snarl of rage at being prevented from reaching his Prowler, Jazz glared up at the mech. "Ah need t' see Prowl."

"He's busy, as Ah'm sure you can see." The huge mech returned the glare. "Return home and hide. You and your sparkling should be safe; the 'Cons are gonna turn tailpipe any minute now."

Blinking behind his visor at the fact that the youngling in his arms had been mistaken for his own creation, Jazz took a moment to respond. But when he did, it was with a sniff and a false tear running down his face. "B-but Ah need Prowl. He promised he wouldn't leave meh alone! What if he gets hurt? Ah can't have mah sparklin' growin' up without his sire!"

The red mech's azure optics flashed white with shock. "Wh- the sparklin' is Prowl's?!"

Jazz shifted the youngling in his arms. "O' course. Ah need t' see him. Please?"

With an uncertain glance at the youngling (who looked neither like Prowl nor Jazz), the red mech huffed. "Wait here until after the battle. Ah'll make sure you're the first person Prowl sees."

"Thanks, mech." Jazz murmured mock-gratefully, stepping back out of the red mech's way as he returned to battle. Clutching the youngling, Jazz took several steps backwards and placed himself strategically on a large chunk of rock in such a way that he and the youngling were hidden from view, but he could still see everything that happened.

The youngling stirred as a bomb exploded across the battlefield. Wide blue optics flew open and he sat up in a panic; once he saw Jazz he relaxed slightly, but kept clutching the saboteurs chest plating. "Where are we?"

"We're near the Autobots, don't worry little mech. Y'know, Ah never even got yo' name."

"I'm Bumblebee." He whispered, his little audio horns quivering as the harsh gunfire filled the air.

"Jazz." The saboteur smiled and began unconsciously rubbing the small Cybertronian's back again. "Ah'm gonna need ya t' pretend t' be mah creation, that okay?"

Bumblebee looked confused, but trust shone in his bright optics. "Okay. What's going to happen to me?" Suddenly, his small voice rose in pitch. "You're not going to send me to a youth sector, are you? Please don't!"

"Heeey, chill mini-mech. You're gonna be just fine wit' me. Ain't nobody gonna send ya anywhere you don't wanna go." Jazz assured as Bumblebee stuck his head in silver chest-plates.

No matter how much Jazz tried to coax him out, Bumblebee wouldn't raise his head from Jazz's torso. And no matter how irritating and stubborn the youngling was, Jazz couldn't bring himself to be angry - he had always had a soft spot for younglings.

"DECEPTICONS - RETREAT!"

Jazz couldn't stop himself from rolling his optics. Megatron needed to invest in a decent tactician, like Prowl. As soon as that thought had occurred to him he cast it away in disgust. "Looks like it's time f'r ya t' meet Prowler!" Jazz said cheerfully, standing up and pulling Bumblebee with him to his feet.

Clearly frightened, the youngling scrambled behind Jazz and clung onto the older mech's leg. "Who's P-Prowler?"

"Don' worry, Bee. Prowler's great. And Ah told that red mech tha' you're Prowler's sparklin', so pretend, alright?"

Bumblebee nodded, but didn't relax his grip on Jazz's leg. "I want my real creators."

"Ah know, li'l mech. Ah know." Jazz winced, laying his hand on the youngling's helm. "Ya have no idea how many time Ah've heard people say that."

Curious optics turned to stare at him. "Did you know a lot of mechs and femmes with no creators?"

"Too many. Maybe Ah'll tell ya about them sometime." He had no intention of doing so, of course, but the youngling didn't know that. Before Bumblebee could reply, Jazz saw the red mech he had been talking to earlier marching up to Prowl and saying something, before pointing towards the saboteur and Bumblebee. "Ready t' meet Prowl?"

The tactician's optics flashed white and his doorwings hitched high in shock upon seeing Jazz. It looked as though he were going to crash completely when he saw the youngling clinging onto his silver roommate's leg.

With a little whimper, Bumblebee reached up and whispered "Carry me?"

"Ya got leg struts, don't ya?"Jazz laughed, but scooped the youngling into his arms. Once again, short legs wrapped around the Decepticon's slim silver waist as he began to walk. "Comfy?"

"Mhmm." Bumblebee murmured, hiding his face in Jazz's neck as they approached Prowl and his red companion.

"Prowl." Jazz greeted calmly, ignoring the sharp stab of frustration and anger upon remembering that the Praxian had actually HANDCUFFED him to the berth.

At the very least, Prowl had the decency to look slightly guilty. "Ah.." He clearly couldn't remember which alias Jazz was using, and the silver mech certainly wasn't going to help him out. "How are you?"

"Annoyed." Was the sharp answer.

"Ah. Yes. That reaction would be logical."

"Prowl, Ah swear ta Primus-" Jazz began, but at the same moment Bumblebee peeked up from where he was hiding his face in Jazz's throat cables.

Startled, Prowl blinked at the youngling in Jazz's arms as though he had only just remembered he was there. "Hello. Who are you?"

"Ya don' recognise him?"

Prowl knew the saboteur well enough to hear the teasing lilt in his voice, and knew that there was no way he would be getting out of this conversation with his dignity intact. "Should I?"

"Well, considerin' he's yo' sparkling, Ah would'a thought so."

A short scream from Bumblebee made Jazz wince as the tactician's logic centre froze and he keeled over. Demonstrating superior reflexes, Jazz caught Prowl with one hand while cooing and reassuring Bumblebee that the tactician was fine. "Ya should take him t' a medbay." He told the large red mech, who was staring at him in a mixture of anger and confusion.

"You knew he'd crash." The big mech accused, folding his arms across his chassis. "You must know him well."

"Well enough t' have his sparklin'." Jazz pointed out, struggling slightly to keep Prowl's heavy frame up and keep hold of the youngling all at once. "Ya should'a seen 'im whenever Ah tried somethin' kinky with him. He just crashed; he got used t' it eventually though. He quite likes it now-"

"Alright, enough." The red mech shuddered. "Give him to me."

Jazz tensed as the big mech took Prowl; he didn't like anyone touching what was his. The youngling clutched Jazz's neck even tighter, before whispering "Did I kill Prowl?"

The saboteur burst out laughing (sounding rather maniacal). "No, li'l mech. Ya didn't kill Prowl. That happens sometimes - it ain't yo' fault." He snickered again as he began to follow the red mech towards the large transport ship that was awaiting all Autobots - and Jazz, of course.

As they walked, the red mech turned back to look at Bumblebee again. "So, tell me 'bout this li'l younglin' o' yours."

"What d'ya wanna know?"

"Anything. I just can't believe it's Prowl's. I mean, I didn't think Prowl had ever interfaced before."

Jazz let out an explosive snort, which caused Bumblebee to jump. "Ah mech, he took lots o' convincin'. Sometimes, Ah still hafta work on him."

"Huh." The mech grunted as they neared the transport ship. "So.. The youngling looks a couple of vorns old. Prowl a couple o' vorns ago was very quiet.. He barely spoke to his own commanders."

"Like Ah said, lots o' convincin'." The saboteur said, internally squealing over the thought of shy Prowl. "Hey, there's gonna be appropriate safety f'r the li'l mech on this transport, right?"

The big mech paused. "I don' know, actually. You can go on a different ship if ya want-"

"No. Ah'm goin' wit' Prowl." Jazz insisted.

"Alright. Yer gonna have to hold onto your younglin' then."

Bumblebee gazed up at Jazz as he followed the red mech onto the transport and down the back of the holding bay. "Jazz? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe, li'l Bee. The Autobot Headquarters in Iacon." Jazz murmured as he sat down on the bench next to where Prowl had been laid out. He found himself realising that he actually believed what he was saying; Iacon had become a safe place for him.

"My real creators are dead, aren't they?" Bumblebee asked again, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah... Yeah, Ah think they are. Ah'm sorry, Bee." Jazz winced as a single tear ran down the youngling's face, and he leaned forward and buried his face in Jazz's chassis before beginning to sob. "Hey... C'mon.. Everything'll be okay."

Beside him, Prowl stirred. Blinking slowly, he onlined his optics and stared at the roof of the holding bay for a long moment. Upon hearing Jazz's voice beside him, he turned his head to the side. "Jazz-?" He caught sight of the youngling again, but this time he didn't crash. "Is he alright?"

"Not really." Jazz muttered, rubbing the youngling's backplates in a way that had used to soothe even the most terrified younglings in the Crypt.

"M-my creators.." 'Bee whispered brokenly.

"Ah." Prowl realised, sitting up stiffly. "I.. see."

"Ya must also see how Ah'm here." The saboteur said conversationally, shooting him a cheerful smile.

"Yes... Yes, I also see that." Prowl said uneasily. "Jazz, please do not make a scene here-"

"Ah don' intend on makin' a scene here." interrupted Jazz sharply, pulling the youngling in closer to him. "You're just gonna have ta wait 'till we get back to our quarters."

Prowl didn't even bother to correct the incorrect use of 'our quarters'. "Jazz, you must understand that I had to come to this battle. Protocol dictates-"

"Don't test meh, Prowl. We'll talk about this later." The saboteur ground out between his denta. Bumblebee's tear stained face gazed up at him, and Jazz wiped away his tears with a claw. "C'mon, cheer up. Everything'll get better."

"How do you know?" The youngling whispered.

"'Cause when everything feels this bad, it can't get any worse. So the only thing that's logical is things gettin' better." Jazz ignored the tactician's smile at his logic. "Ya should sleep now, mini mech. Ya must be tired."

"You are very good with younglings." Prowl said quietly as Bumblebee laid his head down on the Decepticon's chassis.

"Surprised?"

"Not really." Prowl admitted, earning himself a sharp look from the smaller mech. "It would be logical to assume that after your horrific experiences as a youngling, you would be protective of other younglings. Your personality also suggests that you would enjoy the company of those younger to you rather than those older."

"Stop psychoanalysin' meh, Prowl." The saboteur growled irritably.

"I am not. I am merely observing what I believe to be true about you."

The floor of the holding bay vibrated slightly as the transport ship finally began to take off. "Ah'm not talkin' t' ya 'till we get home."

Prowl silently stored away that memory file. He doubted Jazz had even realised he had just called Iacon his home.

...

"He's staying wit' meh!"

"Jazz, having a youngling stay in my quarters is highly illogical! They are barely large enough for the two of us!"

"Ah can take him somewhere else, if ya'd prefer!"

"Jazz!" Prowl snarled in frustration. "Don't do this. There is simply not enough space-"

"Bumblebee don't take up much room!"

"I don't. I'm quite small." Bumblebee called out quietly from where he was curled up on Prowl's couch.

With a sigh, the tactician turned to face him. "I apologise greatly, Bumblebee. The living arrangement would simply be unsuitable for a youngling. I-"

"Fine!" Jazz growled out, marching over and scooping Bumblebee up. "We'll go ask Bluestreak or Smokescreen if we can live wit' them!"

"Jazz-!"

The Praxian didn't get to finish his sentence as Jazz marched out the door with Bumblebee. The door slid shut behind them, and Jazz began stalking down the corridors. Fiddling slightly, the youngling whispered "I didn't mean to cause a fight."

"Don' worry, Bee. Prowler'll come around." Jazz assured as he made his way to Bluestreak's quarters. "But right now, we're gonna meet Blue. He's nice, you'll like him."

"Okay.." Bumblebee muttered as his new guardian knocked on Bluestreak's door.

Within moments it was opened, and Bumblebee stared at yet another Praxian. Bluestreak's optics widened when he saw Jazz, and again when he saw Bumblebee. "Oh! Come in!"

The youngling clutched Jazz tighter as they entered the room. "Who are they?" He whispered when he saw two red and yellow figures sitting on the couch watching some sports documentary on the screen mounted on the wall.

"That's Sideswipe and Sunstreaker." Bluestreak smiled, overhearing Bumblebee. "They're friendly."

"Does Prowler know yo' here?" Jazz set Bumblebee down on his little pedes, but the youngling only clung to his leg.

"Don't tell him! Please Rumble!" Bluestreak pleaded, completely missing the youngling's startled look at the name 'Rumble'. "Prowl would deactivate them!"

Sideswipe glanced over and snorted. "He could try."

"He would probably succeed." Jazz commented, patting Bumblebee's helm. "Are ya gonna say hello?"

The twins craned their necks to see the you going behind Jazz's legs. Bumblebee peeked out shyly, and gave a small wave. A grin spread across the red twin's face. "Hi there! Who're you?"

"You must be Bumblebee." The Praxian leaned down and smiled cheerfully at him. "I'm Bluestreak. It's nice to meet you, we don't normally get new recruits here, but I suppose you're not a new recruit because you're very young. But not that young, don't worry, I'm only five or six vorns older than you. Do you like it here so far? You're staying with Rumble, right?" The only answer was another shy nod, but Bumblebee at least looked more comfortable with being here. Bluestreak turned his smile on Jazz. "So, how come you're here? I mean, it's great to see you! But I thought you would have been with Prowl because you spend most of your time together and-"

"Ah'm waitin' f'r him t' come and tell meh Ah'm right and that he's gonna give in t' mah demands."

With a snort and a roll of his optics, Sunstreaker shook his head. "You'll be waiting a long time then."

"Not as long as ya might think." Jazz walked over and wedged himself on the couch in between the twins. Clearly unwilling to be without Jazz, Bumblebee ran after him. The saboteur grunted as the yellow youngling jumped into his lap. "Easy, Bee."

Bluestreak started to move towards the couch also, but another knock on the door drew him away. "Coming!" He called, opening the door.

Everyone but Jazz was surprised to see Prowl standing in the doorway. "Hello, Bluestreak. Is J- Rumble here?"

"Oh.. Uh.. Rumble?" The smaller Praxian glanced behind him to where Jazz was sitting with Bumblebee on his lap.

"Heya Prowler." The saboteur said casually. "How're ya doin'?"

"Please come with me. We need to talk."

Jazz rolled his head on his neck. "Ah'm comfy here. So's Bee."

With a sigh, Prowl stepped passed Bluestreak and into the room. "Will you stop being stubborn?"

"Why don't you stop bein' stubborn?"

A snarl crossed Prowl's face. "Come with me NOW."

Jazz giggled. Bluestreak fidgeted. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked enraptured. Bumblebee shrank back into Jazz's arms.

"If you do not comply, I will use force."

"Hey now, there's a younglin' present." Jazz chided. "Save the naughty stuff for later."

"Can we go with Prowl?" Bumblebee whispered.

With a bright smile, Jazz stood up and picked up the youngling. "Sure, buddy. If ya want ta."

With a wave of goodbye to Bluestreak and the twins, Jazz followed Prowl back to their quarters. It was clear the tactician was irritated; he didn't say a word until they were inside the room with the door shut behind them. "You are insufferable."

"Ask meh t' leave and Ah will."

Prowl remained silent.

"We'll set up a berth f'r ya tomorrow, 'kay li'l mech?" Jazz turned to Bumblebee.

The youngling nodded tiredly, scampering over to the couch and lying down. Once he had offlined his optics, Jazz stepped forwards and grabbed Prowl's hand. "Ya have some explainin' t' do." He said calmly, tugging the Praxian over to the berth.

"I am aware." Doorwings twitched agitatedly as they both sat on the berth. "You should understand why I left for battle. It is my duty to-"

"Ah get that, but ya handcuffed meh t' the berth. Ya seem t' have forgotten that." Jazz's voice remained surprisingly (and dangerously) calm.

Prowl shifted uneasily. "Ah. Yes. I knew you would escape with ease, I just wished to slow you down-"

"Why?" There was still no hint of anger; just cool curiosity.

"I did not wish you to be hurt in line of battle."

Normally, Jazz would snort at such a ridiculous statement. But his expression didn't so much as twitch. "Ah see."

So fast that Prowl almost didn't even catch the movement, Jazz was on top of him and hauling his arms over his head. "Jazz-!"

The Decepticon sat back on Prowl's abdomen, admiring the sight of the tactician with his arms tied to the berth over his head. "Yeah, Prowler? Ya look great."

"Untie me!"

"Nah. Ah think Ah'm gonna sleep."

"Jazz-!"

"Y'know," the silver mech leaned in close suddenly, "If Bee wasn' here, Ah'd ravish every inch of ya. Ah'd frag ya into the berth 'till ya begged f'r more. Until ya couldn't talk no more. 'Till ya forgot your own name. But, Ah can wait a li'l longer."

Prowl glared as the smaller mech sat back and grinned at him. "Untie me at once."

"Ya look cute like that. Well, have a nice recharge." Jazz kissed the Praxian's nasal ridge, before slipping off the bed and sashaying away.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Prowl's wings twitched slightly in panic.

"Ah'm sleepin' on the couch wit' Bee t'night." He replied, sliding in beside the youngling and curling up to keep the smaller frame warm. "Ah'm sure ya don't mind."

Prowl was furious.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry, I know it's been a while! I had exams :/ so this chapter has sticky smut in it! (Finally!)

"Jazz, I demand you untie me now."

The saboteur shot him a sneaky grin from where he was lounging on the couch. "But ya look so good like tha'."

"I have been tied up like this for all of last night and the past five and a half hours." Prowl deadpanned, glaring furiously at the smaller mech.

With a giggle, Jazz sat up properly on the couch. "Prowler, maybe ya should keep the bedroom eyes f'r later."

"Untie me NOW."

The Decepticon left the couch and loped over to the berth, before crawling onto Prowl's abdomen and settling himself on black hips. "Y'know, Bee won't be back from his examination at Ratchet's fer another while... Wanna play?"

"Jazz!"

"Mm?" The sound was muffled as Jazz kissed the delicate black neck-cables.

Unable to stop himself, the tactician arched his neck into the kisses. "I still expect to be untied."

Jazz laughed, capturing Prowl's lips in a kiss. With one hand, he reached up and crushed the stasis cuffs; the tactician's newly freed hands dropped and settled on the bottom of Jazz's back, close to his shapely aft. With a giggle, Jazz nuzzled Prowl's nasal ridge. "Ooooh, gettin' frisky, are we?"

With a slight frown, Prowl pulled back. "I did not wish to impose upon-"

"Oh, shut up." Surprisingly careful claws grabbed the tactician's face and pulled him into another kiss. In turn, Prowl gripped Jazz's waist and pulled him closer, until they were both entangled together on the berth. "Want ya, Prowler. So bad." He murmured against Prowl's lips.

"Jazz..." Unable to come up with any kind of coherent protest whilst Jazz was grinding against him, Prowl simply returned the kiss passionately. With a promiscuous moan, Jazz ran his hands over his partner's chassis and dipped his hands into transformation seams, eliciting a small noise of pleasure from the usually stoic mech.

"C'mon.." With a murmur, the saboteur slid downwards, until his face was even with the red arrow over Prowl's crotch. It was like a beacon to him; he laved his glossa up the whole interface panel. The sight of the tactician bowing backwards at the sensation was one of the best things Jazz had ever seen, and he saved a photo-capture of it for later. "Gonna open fer meh?"

"We are going to do this quickly." Prowl snarled, grabbing the Decepticon by the shoulders and flipping their positions so that the smaller mech was underneath him. No complaint came from Jazz; he wrapped his legs around Prowl's waist and grinded against him again. "Before Bumblebee gets back."

"Prowler, it's gonna be our first time! There ain't no rush!" After saying that, Jazz sent a private comm. to the youngling. ::Hey li'l Bee. Ah'm super sorry, but yo' gonna have ta visit Blue after yo' visit t' Ratchet. Can ya do that?::

His internal comm. pinged with Bumblebee's reply mere astroseconds later, as he kissed Prowl's neck. ::Oh, okay. But.. C-can I come back after? Please?::

::O' course, Bee. Ah'll come collect ya later, 'kay?::

The moment Bumblebee replied in the affirmative, Jazz grinned and ran his hands down Prowl's chassis, stroking the delicate metal of his sparkchamber. "We got plenty'a time.."

"But-"

"Nah ah. Plenty'a time. Ah promise... C'mon baby.." Jazz mouthed the strong jawline he was beginning to adore. With a wide gesture, he stroked up the whole expanse of the majestic doorwings, causing the Praxian to tremble and his lips to part.

"Promise you will not kill me afterwards?" The tactician ground out between his teeth.

A husky laugh vibrated Jazz's chassis, "Ah couldn' do tha'. Then Ah'd be denied doin' this another time."

"Which way do you wish to do this?" It came out as a pant, which caused a brief flash of irritation through Prowl. He hated not feeling in control, but he was beginning to relax into the idea of giving control over to Jazz. Unstable or not, Jazz had never pulled away from him because of his emotional coldness.

"Ah want ya in mah valve." Excitement coloured his voice as the saboteur tilted his hips upwards. "Please?"

Prowl's grip was uncertain but firm as he took hold of Jazz's slender body and pulled him closer. He didn't have too much experience with interfacing, but Jazz looked eager and excited that Prowl was finally agreeing to do this with him, which was encouraging. The few times he had actually interfaced, he had been the one being spiked; he had never much enjoyed it, but he was willing to try it the other way around, for Jazz.

The saboteur murmured softly as Prowl began to grind back against his panel. "Need ya. Please."

A 'snick' sounded in the room as Prowl's panel retracted, but his spike remained in its housing. A playful pout graced Jazz's faceplates, and he flipped them over again. Now that he was on top, he slid down the larger mech's body until his face was level with Prowl's interface array once again. A reluctant moan escaped the tactician as Jazz ran his glossa around the spike housing, trying to ease the sensitive equipment out. After a few moments of licking and sucking around the housing, Prowl's spike extended.

Jazz grinned excitedly; Prowl was bigger than he had expected. He kissed the tip, before running his glossa down the length. The reactions he wrung from Prowl had Jazz's circuits running hot - particularly as the black and white mech bucked his hips up.

"Dammit." Prowl hissed as the entire length of his spike was engulfed in Jazz's mouth. "Jazz-"

The saboteur hummed in acknowledgement around the spike, causing Prowl to arch back and groan. A grin stretched Jazz's lips even further around Prowl's spike as he tasted a drop of transfluid. It was clear that he was minutes away from overload, so Jazz pulled back quickly, earning a disappointed groan. "Been a while, huh?" Jazz giggled.

"Yes." Prowl sighed as his roommate pulled himself up and hovered over his interface array. "It is that obvious?"

"It's cute." Jazz grinned, flicking back his own panel. His valve was already lubricated and clenching, desperate for something to fill it. He groaned and tossed his helm back as Prowl's spike nosed his entrance teasingly.

"Are you certain you wish to do this?"

A sarcastic snort burst out of Jazz. "Ah've been tryin' t' do this wit'ya f'r months."

Before Prowl could say another word, the Decepticon had slammed his hips down. Prowl gasped as his spike was enveloped in tight heat, and Jazz moaned as the nodes on the inside of his valve were stimulated in the best way. Uncertain as to what to do next, Prowl's hands wavered over Jazz's back, before resting tentatively on the silver mech's aft. "A-ah!"

The saboteur grinned, faceplates flushed. "Dammit, Prowler... Ah've been waitin' fer so long.." He moaned again and buried his face in Prowl's neck, before shifting his hips up and down. "Please.."

With trembling hands, Prowl flipped their position yet again. He couldn't help but smile as Jazz locked his legs around his waist and wriggled in an attempt to get Prowl moving. "Please what?"

A disbelieving laugh escaped the Decepticon's parted lips at Prowl's uncharacteristic dominance in the berth. "Move, Prowler! Frag it, just- just frag me!"

Prowl experimentally thrust forward, leaning both hands on either side of Jazz's head for balance. "Ah.. Is this okay?" The tactician asked uncertainly. Without warning, Jazz burst out laughing, causing Prowl to frown. "What?"

"Heheh- oh, Prowler, ya kill meh.. Yer so funny.." Jazz was shaking with laughter, and his vents hiccuped as he tried to gulp air into his charged up body.

Naturally, this was hardly the reaction Prowl had been hoping for with his first time interfacing with the attractive saboteur. "What have I done wrong?" He asked as he began to pull out.

"No, no, no!" A silver claw shot out and pulled the tactician back into him. "Don't ya dare leave meh hangin'! Ya didn' do anythin' wrong, Prowler, it's just that no one ever asked meh if they were fraggin' meh right."

With a scowl, Prowl tilted his hips, causing Jazz to groan and wiggle his hips again. "I have not done this before, I believe some guidance is in order."

Jazz stared at him in real disbelief. "Your spike is in mah valve. What kinda guidance do ya want meh ta give ya right now? Just move in and out!"

"Yes, okay." Prowl appeared flustered, and he quickly began pumping his hips again.

"Harder!" Jazz insisted, thrusting his own hips in order to meet Prowl's thrusts.

The tactician obliged, listening to the moans of the saboteur below him. "Is that-?"

"Yes!" Jazz didn't wait for the end of the sentence. "Just- go faster! Yes! Yes!"

Distantly, Prowl thought 'It must have been a while for Jazz, too' as the saboteur writhed and bucked under him. The expression of lust and bliss on Jazz's face caused crackles of desire through Prowl's frame, building his charge higher and higher. He paused his thrusts for a moment, panting. He didn't want to overload before Jazz.

With a furious whine, the saboteur pulled him back down to him. "M-move! What are ya doin'?!"

"Taking a moment." Prowl regained his composure, ignoring Jazz's look of fury. "Be patient."

"Prowl!" The howl echoed off the walls, and could possibly be heard from outside in the halls. "Frag meh NOW!"

"Patience." Prowl leaned down and nibbled at the Decepticon's audial horn. Jazz arched and gasped, fingers curling around Prowl's chest armour. "Hmm. Is this sensitive?"

"Very." Jazz shuddered. "K-kinda like yo' doorwings."

"Fascinating."

"Prowl!"

With a small chuckle, Prowl began pistoning his hips again. Jazz mewled when tingles of pleasure shot through him as his inner nodes were stimulated. A small smile crossed Prowl's face as he realised that he was clearly interfacing with Jazz in a manner that was pleasurable for both of them.

"Harder! C'mon, faster! Harder! There! Like that! Right there!" Jazz squealed, thrusting his hips hard to meet Prowl's hips as they clanged together.

The charge that had been building up in both of them reached its crescendo, and overload hit them both almost simultaneously. Electricity crackled over them, jumping between both their frames as the pleasure whited out both their processors.

The force of his overload was enough for to Jazz throw back his head and howl in pleasure, whilst Prowl merely grunted as he spilled his transfluid into the saboteur's constricting valve. The Praxian's optics widened in horror as the haze of overload faded and he realised what he had done. "Oh! I am so sorry, I was uncertain as to what preference you had as regarding mechs overloading-"

"Don' ruin the afterglow, Prowler." Jazz murmured hazily, pulling the larger mech down on top of him. "Ah want yo' transfluid inside o' meh."

Allowing the Decepticon to pull him down, Prowl relaxed against the smaller silver mech. "Very well."

Jazz smiled contentedly against Prowl's chassis. "Tha' was great, Prowler."

"It.. was?" The tactician frowned confusedly. "I believe I only followed your instructions."

"Hehe. Ya did, but in the best way. Has anyone ever told ya you're like a god in the berth?"

An owlish blink answered that question. "No."

"Well, ya are." Jazz snuggled closer to his partner. "Was it as good fer yo' as it was fer meh?"

"Yes, it was relatively pleasurable."

Jazz raised his helm sharply. "'Relatively'?"

"Yes."

"Wh- ya mean you've had better?"

"Jazz, I have no wish to hurt your feelings-"

It was safe to say the afterglow had vanished. "Prowl! Who was better?! Ya know what, Ah'm not acceptin' that!"

"Jazz!" Prowl yelped as his berthmate abruptly pulled his spike out of his valve. "What are you-"

"Ah ain't leavin' here until Ah've given ya the best overload ya've ever had."

With a roll of his optics and a shake of his head, Prowl said "That may take a while."

"Challenge accepted." Jazz leered, sliding down Prowl's body once again.

...

It was three and a half hours later that Jazz turned up at Bluestreak's door, covered in black and white paint transfers and grinning from audio to audio.

The younger Praxian stared at the small dents and dings that covered the silver mech, before discreetly coughing. "Umm.. You have, uh.. Is that Prowl's paint?"

Jazz glanced down at himself and eyed the black and white streaks all over his chassis and crotch area. "Yep. Is Bee here?"

"Uhh... Yeah. Yeah.. Bumblebee? Rumble is here!"

There was a crash from inside the room, and someone cursed before a flash of yellow appeared in the doorway and attached itself to Jazz's leg. "You came back!"

"'Course Ah did, li'l mech. Ah promised, didn' Ah?"

Bumblebee nodded, but didn't relinquish his grip on the armour plates in Jazz's leg. "Can we go? I'm tired."

"Sure, 'Bee. Hey Blue, are the Twins in there wit'ya again?" The saboteur glanced up at the young Praxian, his false blue visor flashing.

As if waiting for his cue, Sideswipe slid into view behind Bluestreak. "Oh. Hello."

"Prowler probably wouldn't be happy t' see ya spendin' the night." Jazz warned.

Frowning, Bluestreak folded his arms across his chassis. "That's.. hypocritical considering... you." He waved at Jazz's body.

A sharp grin crossed the silver mech's face at that. "Ah'm not saying Ah agree wit' him. But Primus, when he's doin' things like tha' t' meh, Ah ain't gonna argue wit' him no matter what he says."

"Ew." Sunstreaker pointed out as he suddenly appeared beside his twin from behind Bluestreak. "That's a little too much information."

"Shh!" The red frontliner hissed at his grumpy counterpart. "I want details!"

"No!" Bluestreak looked horrified. "I don't want to know!"

Jazz threw back his helm and laughed, absently petting Bumblebee's helm as the youngling clung to him, clearly not understanding the conversation. "Ah swear, he's a god in the berth. Anyone ever said that 'bout him?"

"No!" Bluestreak squealed in horror.

"Well, he is." Jazz said confidentially. "Ah c'n barely walk."

"Maybe you should see a medic." Bumblebee piped up innocently.

"Nah, Ah'll be fine." Jazz grinned down at his new charge. "Ah feel great, 'Bee. Ya didn't leave anything behind in Blue's, did ya?" He asked. The youngling just shrugged in response. "Well, go check."

The second Bumblebee had run inside the room again, Sideswipe shook his head. "I can't believe you managed to convince Prowl to frag you."

"Prowler don't frag, he makes love." Jazz corrected. A morbidly fascinated look passed over Sideswipe's face just as Bumblebee raced out of the room again and reattached himself to Jazz's leg. The saboteur glanced down, and raised his optic ridges beneath his visor upon seeing that the youngling was clutching something in his hands. "What's that?"

"Pixel." Bumblebee murmured, holding it up for Jazz to see.

"Can Ah see it?" At Bumblebee's hesitant nod, Jazz was handed a little doll-like figure made from a compound of iron and steel. The hinges of its arms and legs squeaked slightly when the appendages moved, and it was missing an LED light that seemed to be its optics. "What is it?"

"It's Pixel." Bumblebee repeated, smiling cheerfully.

::He wouldn't let anyone touch it. I think someone gave it to him to keep him calm when Ratchet was doing his examination.:: Bluestreak pinged Jazz over a private comm.

Jazz shot the young sniper a sharp look, curious as to how Bluestreak had gotten his private comm. number. Turning his attention back to the youngling clinging to his leg, he smiled and handed back the doll. "It's very nice, Bee."

"She. She's a femme." Bumblebee corrected, hugging 'Pixel' to his chassis.

"Oh, my bad. C'mon, it's time for berth, li'l guy." Jazz bent and scooped the youngling up into his arms. "See ya later, guys. Thanks f'r mindin' Bee."

Bluestreak smiled and waved, before the Twins grabbed him and pulled him inside. Resting his head on the silver mech's shoulder, Bumblebee smiled absently. "Hey.. Can I ask you a question?"

"'Course ya can."

"Is your name Jazz or Rumble?" The youngling asked, frowning curiously.

"Ah..." That hadn't been what Jazz had been expecting. He frowned as he walked down the hall, making sure no one was around to hear him. "Mah name's Jazz. But it's important that ya don't tell anyone that, m'kay? It'll be our li'l secret."

"Okay!" An excited grin began forming on Bumblebee's young face. "I won't tell anyone, I promise! Does Prowl know?"

Jazz laughed good-naturedly as they arrived at Prowl's quarters. "He sure does, Bee." He assured the youngling as he typed in the code into the keypad. The doors slid open, and they arrived into the room.

Prowl was sitting on the couch with his wings splayed relaxedly behind him. He was reading a datapad, though he glanced up when the door opened. "Ah, hello Bumblebee."

The youngling smiled shyly in greeting. "Hiya."

Jazz swung him down and set him on his pedes. "Ya gonna go over an' say hi properly?"

The tactician sat up straighter, although his posture was infinitely more relaxed than usual. He smiled slightly as Bumblebee crawled up on the couch beside him, clutching Pixel to his chassis. "What is that?" He asked, looking at the doll.

"Tha's Pixel." Jazz grinned, loping over and throwing himself onto the couch beside Prowl. "Ain't he cute?"

"Indeed." The tactician mused. "Where did you get it? I was unaware you brought any belongings with you."

"Pixel is a femme." Bumblebee corrected immediately, before moving on to answer the question. "A nice mech gave her to me when I was being looked over by the doctor."

A curious frown creased Prowl's forehelm. "Who was this nice mech?"

"I... I think his name was Spectrum."

Jazz froze, sitting up straight all of a sudden. "Spectrum? No! No way! He ain't allowed ta give ya anythin'!"

With a roll of his optics, Prowl shook his head. "Jazz, calm yourself."

"He gave li'l Bee somethin'! He ain't allowed ta do tha'! Ah saved Bee! He's mah sparklin', not his!"

Silence fell for a long moment, before Bumblebee turned to look up at the saboteur with coolant tears shining in his optics. "You'll be my new creators?"

An awkward pause took over, and Prowl glanced at the Decepticon from the corner of his gaze. "Bumblebee, I am sure no one will be able to replace your creators-"

"But you can be better creators!" Bumblebee spoke with a quiver in his voice. "Please? You will, won't you?"

Jazz jumped in before Prowl could speak again. "O' course, Bee."

::Jazz, Decepticons killed his true creators. If he were to discover your aliiance-::

::Well, Ah'll make sure he don't!:: Jazz replied harshly.

::You would not have to if you would defect.::

::Not now, Prowler.::

Meanwhile, Bumblebee was smiling at the two of them. "We can do family stuff, right?"

With a frown, Prowl shot a single glance at Jazz, before turning back to the youngling. "What is 'family stuff'?"

"Going places together, getting energon together, watching movies together, doing puzzles together-"

At the mention of 'puzzles', Prowl's doorwings perked up. "Puzzles? Like-"

"Jigsaws and riddles and stuff!" Bumblebee cheered, waving his arms and jumping up and down on the couch.

Black and white wings wiggled excitedly. "I have several jigsaws!"

Jazz looked between the two of them, barely stifling his laughter. "That sounds awesome, guys." He stretched out leisurely on the couch, laying his helm in Prowl's lap and his legs over Bumblebee in order to stop the little youngling from bouncing.

Almost absentmindedly, Prowl stroked the saboteur's helm. An amused smile pulled at his lips as he petted Jazz's audio horns and the Decepticon practically melted into a purring liquid-silver puddle. "When will we be getting the results of Bumblebee's medical examination?"

"Doctor Ratchet said tomorrow." Bumblebee smiled, before the smile faltered and he tilted his helm at the Praxian. "Can... Can I stay here? Please? I don't have anywhere else to go... I'd like to stay with you and Jazz. I know you might not like me, but-"

It was plain to see that Bumblebee had prepared this speech in advance, but Prowl held his hand up to stop the youngling. "Bumblebee, myself and Jazz have already spoken about this-" he deliberately ignored Jazz's snicker - there had, after all, been very little speaking involved in their activities - and continued talking directly to the youngling. "-and we agreed that you are welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I apologise that my social skills were severely lacking in our first meeting. We would be honoured if you-"

With a delighted laugh, Bumblebee threw himself on his new guardians. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

Jazz laughed and pulled the youngling in so he was squashed between the saboteur's silver frame and the tactician's larger black and white body. "Welcome to the fam'ly, li'l mech."

...

It was almost strange how something as simple as sleeping habits became almost as important to Jazz as energon. If he wasn't sleeping right next to Prowl (preferably with the tactician's arms around him), Jazz found it difficult to recharge.

Naturally, Primus decided to make things difficult. Now, Bumblebee was added to those who couldn't recharge without the stoic tactician.

"Jazz? When's Prowl coming back?" Bumblebee rested his chin on the armrest of the chair the saboteur was residing in.

Jazz glanced up from the datapad in his hand. "He'll be back after his shift, baby Bee. Promise. Why don't ya hop inta berth?"

"I can't sleep without Prowl." Bumblebee whispered, as if fearful that someone would hear him. "Is that one of his reports?"

The datapad in Jazz's hand was waved a little. "Yep. Ah'm just fillin' it in f'r him. He stresses himself out way too much over these things."

With a little grunt, Bumblebee dragged himself up onto Jazz's chair and curled up on the saboteur's lap. "I'm tired."

"Ah know, Bee." A swift check to his chronometer showed him that there was only another ten minutes until Prowl's shift was over. "He'll be back to us soon."

After the report was finished up and set on the table, Jazz turned his attention to the sleepy youngling in his lap. Bumblebee yawned tiredly. "Can you tuck me in so we can wait for Prowl to get home?"

"Yeah. Sure, buddy." He smiled and picked Bumblebee up, carrying him over to the berth. The little yellow mech barely twitched as he was moved. "You're super small, ya know that?"

"I know." Bumblebee said sadly as Jazz lay down next to him on the berth. "My other creators used to complain about it all the time."

Jazz looked down at the youngling with a curious frown. "Complain? Why?"

"Doctor Ratchet told you I was a minibot, right?" When the silver mech nodded, Bumblebee continued. "Well, my creators never wanted a minibot sparkling. My brothers were all normal mechs, and my sire had been hoping I would be too. I.. He was disappointed that I wasn't."

There was a brief silence before Jazz laid his hand on the minibot's head. "Hey, there's absolutely nothin' wrong wit' bein' small. Ah was teased all the time when Ah was a younglin' fer bein' small, but the important thing is not t' let it get t' ya."

"Yeah, I guess." Bumblebee mumbled, cuddling into Jazz's chassis. "What was your younglinghood like?"

The only sign that the question stressed Jazz was a slight brightening of his visor. "It was... uneventful."

"Oh." Bumblebee breathed. "But where are your creators?"

"Dead."

"Like mine?"

Silence again, before "Yeah, buddy. Like yours."

A tiny hand reached up and tapped on the saboteur's visor. "Can I see your optics?"

Jazz stiffened, but his voice remained as blasé as always. "No can do. The visor don't come off."

"Oh. But it can change colour, right? Because it was blue yesterday." He tapped the red crystal of Jazz's visor curiously.

"Sure can." The red glowed brighter, and Jazz grinned sharply. "Cool, right?"

"Yeah. I like it better blue, though."

"Seriously? Prowl said that too."

"I think blue suits you better." Bumblebee cuddled closer to the saboteur. "Red scares me."

"Why?" Jazz frowned behind his visor.

"Because the mechs that hurt my family had red optics."

"Oh." Jazz went silent.

"Your visor still looks nice, though." Bumblebee insisted, not wanting Jazz to be angry with him.

"Thanks, Bee."

The sound of the door opening caused Jazz to practically fly out of the berth and over to the doorway to greet Prowl. "You're back!"

"Yes." Prowl sighed tiredly as the door closed behind him, and allowed Jazz to wrap his arms around him and kiss him.

"Ewww!" Bumblebee complained, covering his optics as his guardians kissed passionately.

Jazz flapped a hand at him to be quiet as Prowl lifted him off his feet with the strength of returning the kiss. "Missed ya." He mumbled into the tacticians mouth. Prowl smiled into his partner's mouth and rubbed his thumb in circles into Jazz's back.

"Gu-u-u-ys! I'm tired! I wanna sleeeep!" Bumblebee whined from the berth, crossing his arms huffily.

The two grown mechs broke the kiss, both panting heavily as they resurfaced for air. Jazz rested his forehelm on the red chevron and grinned widely at Prowl. The Praxian returned the smile, although in a much more reserved manner. "Perhaps it is time for recharge."

"Mhmm. Carry meh?" Jazz hid his face in the tactician's shoulderplates.

"Lazy." Accused Prowl teasingly as he carried the saboteur to the berth like a sparkling. "You both look tired."

"So do you." With a frown, Jazz stroked Prowl's face. The tactician's optics were dim with fatigue, although he was hiding his exhaustion heroically. "Poor baby."

A snort exploded from Prowl as he laid the silver mech on the berth. "Oh, hush. How come you did not go to berth earlier?"

Jazz shot him a disgruntled look, before reaching up and pulling him down onto the berth beside him. "'Cause neither o' us can recharge wit'out ya."

"That is... highly illogical. My presence should have no bearing upon your recharge protocols-"

"Shut up." Jazz muttered affectionately, kissing Prowl's chestplates next to his spark. "You're here now. Bee, you gonna come and recharge?"

Bumblebee nodded and shuffled closer to his guardians, cuddling into their warmth. "I'm tired."

"Recharge now." Prowl instructed, although his stern aura was lessened slightly by the saboteur snuggling him. Nevertheless, the youngling was in recharge within minutes. Turning his attention to the amorous Decepticon beside him, Prowl said "You should recharge too."

"Yeah.. Ah'll try."

"Try?"

"Haven' been sleepin' well lately." He murmured, playing with the edges of Prowl's wings.

The delicate metal shivered slightly under Jazz's ministrations, but the tactician's face remained devoid of emotion. "I see. I could ask Ratchet if he had anything to-"

"No. Ah don' like medics much." Jazz muttered, nuzzling Prowl's neck.

"Yes, I understand that. How come you have been having recharge problems?"

The real reason was that the Decepticon's mind had been preoccupied with Vortex. The meeting with the interrogator had bothered him more than he let on, particularly what the Combaticon had said. The thought that Megatron actually wanted Jazz to return to the Decepticon cause was startling, and Jazz couldn't figure out what to do. The illogical part of his processor told him to stay with Prowl no matter what. The OTHER part of his processor (the part Jazz didn't like very much) reminded him that he had dedicated most of his adult life to the Decepticons, and it would be sheer stupidity to leave all that behind without a thought.

"Jazz?"

The saboteur jerked in surprise, remembering he wasn't alone. "Oh, sorry. Uh.. Ah dunno, Prowler. Better try, right?"

"Right." Prowl murmured, watching curiously as the silver mech offlined his optics and laid his head down to rest.

Jazz waited until Prowl had fallen into recharge before sitting back up and sighing. His mind was still whirling wildly, and he hated it. There had been a time that he would have welcomed the chaotic numbness the madness in his mind offered him, but that was before he met Prowl. Within a week of simply being around the tactician, the chaos in his head had calmed. Prowl didn't like the madness - he became unsettled by it whenever it took over Jazz. The tactician had managed to settle him down, somehow. And yet now, since Vortex, his mind was whirling again. Things were beginning to blur together again, and that was most certainly not good for anyone.

Before, when he had been just another insane, homicidal Decepticon, he had interfaced blindly with anyone just to chase an overload for that one moment of clarity afterwards before the madness consumed him again. With Prowl, it was so different. Overwhelmingly so. With Prowl, he didn't have to chase an overload for a moment of clarity - his whole time spent with him was perfect, and everything was clear as crystal.

The thought of returning to Megatron should have been out of the question, but it simply wasn't. Jazz sighed and buried his helm in his hands, completely stressed out. Who would have thought that one decision would be so hard to make?

"Ugh." Jazz groaned and flopped back on the berth. He knew he would have to make his decision soon, but he was going to draw it out for as long as he possibly could.

"Jazz? Whut're yoo doin'?" Prowl asked confusedly, sleepily onlining one of his optics.

The sleepy tone of the tactician's voice made Jazz smile as he cuddled up to Prowl. "Nothin', baby. Go back to recharge."

"But.." Prowl rolled over slightly, frowning tiredly at the saboteur as he became more awake. "What were you-"

"Ah was just thinkin'." Jazz hushed him. "Go t' recharge, Prowler."

"M'kay." He murmured, pulling Jazz closer to his white chassis.

Jazz loved Prowl when he was sleepy. And when he was awake. "G'night."

"Mhmm."

As Jazz rested his head on Prowl's shoulder, he cast all thoughts of Vortex and the Decepticons out of his mind. At least, he tried.


	11. Chapter 11

Jazz hummed softly, relaxing back into the couch. Bumblebee, who was lying on the saboteur's stomach and legs, had fallen into recharge in a curled up position. "Prowler, you nearly finished those reports?"

"No." The tactician barely glanced up from his datapad. His wings were held relaxedly behind him and despite his workload, he seemed content.

A sigh escaped Jazz's vents, and he absently petted the youngling in his lap. "Jeez, Prowl. Ah'm bored, and Bee's fallin' asleep. There has t' be somethin' we can do."

"I believe Smokescreen wished to speak to Bumblebee about his creators demise."

That earned a sharp look from Jazz. "Smokescreen's the psychiatrist, right? Ah don't trust him, and Ah don't wanna let him near Bee."

"He is indeed a psychiatrist, but he is also my brother." Prowl raised his head and frowned. "I trust him implicitly."

With a glance down at the sleeping youngling, Jazz frowned. "Ah don't like psychiatrists, and Ah don't want Bee anywhere near one. He's on'y a sparkling."

"Smokescreen is very well-qualified, and he-"

"You're on'y sayin' that 'cause he's yo' brother."

The datapad was set down on the table, before Prowl frowned sternly at Jazz. "I make a point of not allowing my emotions to control any decisions I make. As a result of this, it is my opinion that allowing Smokescreen to perform a psychological evaluation on Bumblebee is a perfectly reasonable-"

"No!"

"Perhaps you should speak to him also!" Prowl raised his voice, clearly beginning to lose his patience. Long gone were the days that the tactician's patience was endless - Jazz had changed all of that. He was much more liable to emotional responses, no matter how hard he tried to be logical about it. "Then you can decide for yourself!"

"Maybe Ah will!"

Bumblebee stirred with a soft noise, onlining his optics sleepily and looking up at his guardians. "What's happening?"

"Nothin', Bee. Go back ta sleep." Jazz instructed stiffly.

"I'm not tired." He said as he yawned, stretching across Jazz's legs. "I'm hungry."

"Okay. Let's go get some energon, hmm?" The Decepticon cooed, rubbing the youngling's backplates.

As he watched, his anger dissipated and Prowl couldn't help his smile as it tugged at the corners of his lips. The mere sight of the Decepticon he had grown so close to being so affectionate to a youngling still caused him the same amount of happiness it had when he had first seen it. The youngling had only been here for two weeks, but Jazz's parental streak had emerged and taken over.

"You comin'?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Prowl jumped and realised he had been staring at Jazz as the saboteur walked to the door with Bumblebee. "Ah.. No. No, I need to finish my reports."

After another moment of optic contact, Jazz took Bumblebee's hand and led him out of the room. "So, how hungry are ya?"

"Really hungry!" Bumblebee clutched at his guardian's hand insistently. "Super hungry!"

"Wow, super hungry?! Dang, mech!"

With a giggle, Bumblebee tilted his head up and gazed adoringly at the older mech. "Jazzie?"

"Yeah, li'l mech?"

"Your visor is red again. I thought you liked making it blue when we go out?"

"Frag." Jazz muttered, hand reaching up as he recalibrated the colour of his optical sensors to blue. He frowned suddenly when he realised that Bumblebee had flinched away from him when he had cursed. "Bee? Wha's wrong?"

"I don't like that word. My other creators didn't let me say it."

"What, frag?"

Another flinch. "Please don't."

"Alright, alright. Ah won't." The saboteur assured, waving a hand as they neared the door of the rec. room.

The sounds of mechs laughing and shouting increased as they walked through the door. On reflex, Jazz took the youngling's hand and tugged him over to walk close to the wall.

"Jazzie?" Bumblebee pressed closer to the silver spy as the older mech poured two cubes of energon from the energon dispenser.

"Hmm?"

"Sideswipe is coming over."

After a pause, Jazz straightened up stiffly and passed Bumblebee one of the cubes. As the shiny red frontliner approached, Jazz forced an easygoing smile on his face. "Hey there."

"I know you." Sideswipe stated as he reached them.

"Well, Ah hope so. Ya have been lookin' after mah sparklin' with Blue every couple'a days f'r the past two weeks." Jazz laughed casually, looking for all the world as though he weren't tensing and readying himself for battle.

"No, I mean I recognise you from somewhere. Seriously, it's been bothering me for ages."

With another chuckle, Jazz shrugged. "Sorry mech, haven' a clue."

"No, seriously! Your accent and everything! It's so familiar..." Sideswipe frowned, before reaching out and grabbing Jazz's face. He turned the silver mech's head to the side, examining him closely.

"Get your hands off meh, or Ah'll kill ya." Jazz said pleasantly, shooting Sideswipe a cheerful smile. His proclamation made Bumblebee gasp and clutch at the saboteur's leg.

Slowly, Sideswipe removed his hand from the smaller mech's face. "Holy frag." He whispered, optics widening. "You're-"

"Ah hafta go." The saboteur interrupted, grabbing Bumblebee up into his arms. "See ya 'round."

The speed with which Jazz left the room was almost astounding; Sideswipe was left standing shell-shocked, staring after the silver form.

"What was he talking about?" Bumblebee clutched at Jazz's neck.

"Nothin', Bee." The saboteur said, casting a quick look over his shoulder. "Alright, we're gonna go visit Uncle Smokescreen."

"Who's that?" The youngling asked curiously. "Is he the mech with wings like Prowl and Bluestreak?"

"Yeah, baby, that's him." After storming down the corridor, Jazz stopped in front of Smokescreen's office and knocked anxiously.

The door opened almost immediately, and the blue and red Praxian was framed in the doorway. "Ah, Rumble. Hello, Bumblebee. Would you like to come in?"

"No." Jazz said firmly, shifting the weight of the youngling to his other hip. "Look, Prowl was sayin' tha' it would be good f'r you t' talk t' Bee 'bout his trauma."

"What's 'trauma' mean?" Bumblebee piped up.

"Tell ya later." Jazz mumbled, not taking his attention off the Praxian in front of him.

Rubbing his yellow chevron, Smokescreen nodded. "Ah.. Yes. I believe I did mention that to Prowl. I think it would be beneficial to Bumblebee. The first step is acceptance."

Ignoring the youngling's confused look at him, Jazz nodded. "Yeah, okay. So when can ya set up an appointment?"

"Tomorrow would be good for me." Smokescreen murmured, thinking for a moment. "Come into my office for a moment."

After a brief pause, Jazz nodded and followed the psychologist into the room. It was a rather plain room, and very neat - not to the extent of Prowl's, but quite similar. The few personal effects around the room included a painting of the skyline of Praxus and a framed photo-capture. Curious, Jazz set the youngling down and picked up the frame. "This you an' Prowl?"

Smokescreen glanced around, and smiled at the sight of the photo-capture. "Yes."

The photo was clearly taken many vorns ago, when the two of them were younger. Smokescreen was smiling widely, his yellow chevron glinting. Beside him, Prowl was smiling reservedly as he shied away from whoever was taking the picture.

With a small smile of his own, Jazz set the frame back down on the tidy desk. "Alright, wha's up?"

The Praxian didn't answer right away. Instead, he handed Bumblebee a datapad and coloured styluses. "Why don't you draw a picture?"

With an excited nod, the youngling took the drawing supplies and skipped over to the psychiatrist's couch, where he sat and proceeded to colour.

"Sit down." Smokescreen gestured to the chair in front of his desk and smiled.

"Ah'd rather not."

"Okay, then." Unfazed, he steepled his fingers and regarded the saboteur curiously. "I actually wanted to talk with you, as well as Bumblebee."

"Meh? Why?"

"Prowl informed me you had a difficult upbringing. I thought you might like to talk about it."

The saboteur's lithe form had gone rigid, "What did he tell ya?" He growled suspiciously.

"Nothing invasive. He just said you suffered traumatic experiences throughout your youth that you have never truly recovered from."

Jazz's sharp claws clenched into fists. "Ah'm fine."

"Right. Well, if you-"

"I think we're done here. Prowl'll bring Bee by t'morrow." Jazz moved to turn away, but Smokescreen spoke again.

"I wanted to talk about you and my brother too." The psychologist stepped closer, frowning ever so slightly. "You two have become very close recently. I think you should realise that emotions run deeply within Praxians, and even more deeply within Prowl. If you hurt him, he won't get over it."

"What are ya tryin' t' say?" Anger was making his silver chassis swell, making him look a little taller than normal.

"I am just saying, Prowl doesn't recover from sparkbreak easily. So please, please don't hurt him."

"Ah would never-"

"I'm not suggesting that you would, intentionally. I'm just pleading with you not to. Prowl likes you. A lot."

A strange look crossed Jazz's face. "He told ya that?"

"Not in so many words." Smokescreen sighed. "But I think the fact that he is allowing you to live with him speaks volumes."

There was no expression on the saboteur's face as he turned to Bumblebee, who hadn't moved from the couch. The youngling's little face was scrunched up on concentration as he coloured on the datapad. "Bee, we're goin'."

Smokescreen watched in silence as the mechling slid off the couch, clutching the datapad to his chassis. It was only when the silver mech had picked Bumblebee up off the ground and walked towards the door that the Praxian spoke again. "Do you love him?"

There was an almost audible screech as Jazz froze midstep. "Wha'?"

"Prowl. Do you love him?"

Silence.

Without giving an answer, Jazz stalked out the door. He ignored the youngling's confused look as he headed back towards their quarters.

His mind was whirling again. Did he love Prowl? He couldn't. It wasn't in his nature to love anyone.

He began walking faster.

It felt like his spark was constricting in his chassis. He couldn't do this. He just couldn't. "I can't do this."

"Do what? Jazzie, you're scaring me." Bumblebee whispered, clutching the saboteur's neck.

"Can't do it. Can't do it." He walked faster.

His mind whirled and his spark hurt. He couldn't. What if he hurt Prowl? Even unintentionally? He wouldn't be able to live with himself. And Prowl liked him back. That was... strange. And new. Jazz didn't know how to deal with the new feelings coursing through him.

Before he knew it, he was at the door to Prowl's quarters. He stared at it a moment, confused as to how he got there, before setting Bumblebee down on his feet. "Listen t' meh, Bee." He murmured, blinking to try and clear his head of the foggy confusion that had taken over him. "Listen real close, okay? Ah gotta go-"

"Go?" Bumblebee blurted, staring as Jazz knelt down in front of him. "No! You can't!"

"Shhh.." The saboteur insisted, patting the youngling's face. "Listen. Ah have ta, baby Bee. Ah need ya t' look after Prowler f'r meh-"

"You aren't saying bye?"

There was a pause as Jazz struggled to regulate his air intake and sparkbeat. He couldn't; if he were to see Prowl again, he would break. "No, Ah'm not. But- Ah'll be back soon, promise."

The youngling shook his helm desperately, clutching at the saboteur. "Please Jazzie, don't!"

"Ah'm sorry." He breathed, hugging the small body. "Ah'll come back eventually. Just... tell Prowl Ah'm sorry."

"B-but where are you going?" Tears were beginning to slide down Bumblebee's face as he gazed up at the older mech.

After a noticeable hesitation, Jazz sighed. "Home."

"This is your home."

"Ah'm sorry." The Decepticon had never apologised so much in his life. "Promise meh you'll tell him?"

"Yeah." Bumblebee sniffled. "Okay. I don't want you to leave."

"Ah know. But... Ah don't have a choice."

"You do! You can stay with me and Prowl!"

"Ah can't. Ah'll hurt him. Ah can't hurt him.. Ah can't."

"Hurt who? Prowl?" Bumblebee's face twisted. "You won't! You would never hurt Prowl!"

Jazz patted the youngling's back, before standing up and taking a step back. "Can't take the chance. He'll be better without meh."

"No!"

"Shhh." Jazz hugged the youngling one more time. "Bye, Bee."

"Wait!" Bumblebee wailed, trying to chase after the silver mech as he retreated down the corridor. The youngling turned the corner, only to find Jazz had vanished from sight. Venting harshly, Bumblebee ran back to Prowl's quarters and began hammering his little fists on the door.

The door slid open and Prowl frowned disapprovingly, clearly not impressed with all the noise. His frown deepened when he saw the youngling's tear-stained face. "Bumblebee?" He glanced around, and felt trepidation rising up inside him when he realised that Bumblebee was alone in the corridor. "Where is Jazz?"

...

'Nearly there', Jazz thought to himself as he trekked towards the Kaonian Decepticon Base. He had commed Vortex in advance, and the Combaticon had agreed to meet him halfway.

It was only a few kliks before he saw the dark form of the helicopter standing by a bar and grinning. "Welcome back, Jazz."

The saboteur grunted and continued walking, refusing to stop for him. "You'd better have a room ready f'r meh. Ah'm tired."

"Ah. We don't. You gave us such short notice, ya know." Vortex shrugged, slinging an arm around the smaller mech. "So you can room with me."

Jazz shot a sharp look at the interrogater. "What happened t' mah room?"

"You were gone for a long time. I'm pretty sure the Constructicons turned it into a storage room."

"Ah want it back."

"I- uh.. I'm sure we can get it back."

"Good. Now get yo' hands off of meh."

The arm was removed from his shoulders immediately. "Right. Well anyway, I'm sure everyone'll be happy to see you again."

"Hmph. Ah'll bet." Jazz said sourly. The only reason anyone would be happy to see him would be because they hoped for a quick interface session. He was, after all, known for that.

"You're in a good mood today." Vortex observed suddenly, glancing at the saboteur with a smile with no hint of sarcasm.

"Yeah, guess so." Jazz grumbled, scowling at the ground. Compared to what the Decepticons usually saw of him, his mood would look ecstatic.

"Cheer up, mech. We're almost there."

The grim outline of the Kaonian Decepticon Base stood out starkly against the other unkempt buildings surrounding it. It looked like a neon sign warning mechs to stay the hell away. Even the beggar mechs that frequented practically everywhere knew well enough to leave this place alone.

The guards all nodded to Vortex, whether out of respect or fear was unclear. Within a few kliks, the two of them were walking up the halls of the base. "Megatron wants to speak with you before you go anywhere else." Vortex spoke up casually, and Jazz noticed for the first time that they were headed towards Megatron's throne room.

"Fan-fragging-tastic."

...

Jazz's mood sank lower and lower as he loped down the dull grey corridors after Vortex. Just being present in the Base was enough to make him feel homicidal again, never mind having to listen to Megatron yet again. The tyrant had wanted to know exactly where he was, and exactly what he had been doing. Naturally, Jazz hadn't said a word; though Megatron hadn't truly been expecting an answer, he had still hit the saboteur rather hard.

And to top it all off, he had to stay the night in the Combaticon's quarters. He was under no illusions of this being an act of kindness, either; Vortex just wanted to frag.

"Here we are." The helicopter muttered, leading the way into the room. "It's just us tonight. Onslaught's brought the others on a mission or something."

After shooting a suspicious look at the interrogator, Jazz marched over to one of the five empty berths and threw himself down onto it. It was lumpy and hard, but it was a berth, and after driving half of the way from Iacon and walking the rest, all Jazz wanted to do was recharge. His body was so tired it felt strutless, and a trip to the washracks was on the very top of his to-do list for when he woke up.

"You're not recharging already, are you?"

Jazz onlined his optics again, scowling behind his visor at the voice of the unstable Combaticon. "Yeah, Ah am."

"Are you sure..? We could do something more.. fun?" Vortex's voice turned suggestive, and a sharp finger trailed down the saboteur's slim waist.

A sharp smack was delivered to the wandering hand before Jazz glared at him. "No."

"No? You've never said 'no' before." A short, slightly disbelieving laugh escaped Vortex.

"Well, Ah'm sayin' it now. Ah'm tired, and not in the mood."

With an angry sigh, Vortex turned away. It was obvious he was rolling his optics, even if it was hidden behind his visor. "Whatever. If I had known you were just gonna sleep, I would've let you stay somewhere else."

Refusing to show how much that hurt, Jazz curled up on the berth he had claimed as the other mech walked over to his own berth. The saboteur was only now realising just how good he had it in Iacon. He had allowed himself to become weak, relying on someone else for survival. He had to change that.

He missed Prowl already.


	12. Chapter 12

"Who is that?" Jazz asked abruptly.

There was a mech in his office. In HIS office. Not just any mech, but a mech with the most ridiculous paintjob he had ever seen. Who the frag would want to walk around looking like THAT?

Vortex, who had been ignoring Jazz in favour of talking to Swindle, glanced around to see who he was talking about. "Oh, that's the new Head of Special Ops."

"No!" Jazz hissed, his armour fluffing out aggressively. "HIM?! Look at his paint! Who the frag-? How the frag would he even-? What the frag-?!"

The fact that Jazz, the infamously lethal spy, was speechlessly furious was enough to make the two Combaticons laugh in pure amusement. "He's a bit weird, and not a particularly good spy. I've started a betting pool on how long he'll last before he's caught and killed horribly. Great odds, really. Wanna get in on it?" Swindle asked eagerly.

The only response was another hiss as Jazz marched into the office. The door and walls were made of a synthetic glass that was harder to break than iron, but also clear; it had been designed by Jazz so that he wouldn't get claustrophobic within the confines of the tight space.

The mech behind the desk glanced up in surprise when the saboteur stormed in. "Ah.. Hello?"

"Who the frag're ya?"

Blinking at the demand, the other mech smiled nervously. "I'm Erratic."

"Yeah Ah know, Ah can see yo' paintjob. Ah meant what's yo' designation!"

"My designation is Erratic- what's wrong with my paintjob?" The Head of Special Ops looked confusedly at himself. He was painted in the brightest shades of yellow, red, pink, blue and orange Jazz had ever seen. "It's bright."

"And displeasing t' the optics." Jazz wrinkled his nasal ridge. "Are ya blind?"

"No, my sight is- wait, who are you?"

"Who do ya think?" He crossed his arms angrily over his chassis. "Ya look ridiculous, by the way."

"I do not!" Erratic said defensively. "I thought the colours were rather refreshing. It's so dull in here, after all."

A snarl quirked up the corners of Jazz's lips. "Who in their right fragging mind would choose those colours?!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms out angrily to the side.

The new Special Ops mech seemed to grow even more defensive as Jazz grew angrier. "My bondmate chose them."

"Oh, now ya have a bondmate. Th' frag're ya thinkin', ya moron? Is he blind too? Ya can't just have a fraggin' sparkmate runnin' 'round the place!" The saboteur's arm movements grew wilder as he grew more frustrated than ever.

"I am not blind, and neither is my sparkmate! And my relationship status is none of your business! If you loved someone, you'd understand-"

That had been absolutely the wrong thing to say.

Within a blink of an eye, Jazz had grabbed Erratic by the throat and dragged him over the desk, before slamming the brightly coloured mech down on the floor and throttling him. "WHAT TH' FRAG IS THA' SUPPOSED T' MEAN?" He roared, beside himself with fury. The poor mech below him could only choke, staring desperately up into the red visor above him. "ANSWER MEH!"

"Jazz: Desist."

There was a prolonged moment where it looked as though Jazz was going to continue strangling the mech below him until his throat cabling collapsed. But then, his sharp claws loosened their grip and slowly slid away from the delicate cables. "What do ya want, Soundwave?" He was angry, but this time at himself; he hadn't even noticed the other mech enter the room.

The Communications Officer waited patiently for the saboteur to stand and face him before speaking. "Soundwave: wishes to speak about Jazz's experience whilst-"

"When Ah was MIA, yeah?"

"Affirmative."

Jazz snorted, giving Erratic a light kick to the stomach plates. "Whatever. Lead the way."

"Order: Erratic will report to the medbay."

"Y-yes sir." Whimpered the rainbow-mech as he stood and limped out of the room.

It was only then that Jazz realised that there was quite the crowd standing outside the clear walls, staring in. His feeling of claustrophobia increased tenfold.

Soundwave, ever observant, said "Query: Jazz wishes to move location?"

"Nah. Here's fine." Jazz said quickly, refusing to show that sort of weakness. He couldn't afford to; not here. He slid behind HIS desk, propping his legs up comfortably. "Ya wanted t' know.. what exactly?"

The crowd outside the office was slowly beginning to disperse, although a few remained curious enough to remain and see what would happen. "Jazz: was with Autobots?"

The saboteur's entire frame tensed, and he appraised the mech in front of him slowly. "Where'd ya hear tha'?"

"Educated guess." Soundwave intoned, sounding as sarcastic as his monotone voice got. "Statement: true?"

"Wha' if it is?"

"Jazz: will have committed treason. Punishment: public execution."

After a brief pause, Jazz shot him a dazzling smile. "Good thing Ah wasn't with the Autobots, eh?"

"Probability of Jazz having stayed with Autobots: 76.8%."

Another layer of tension seemed to be added to the saboteur's frame. "And? What're ya gonna do, execute meh?" His tone was joking, but clearly forced. If they decided to execute him, he was relatively certain he could get out of there practically unharmed, but he would rather not go through the bother.

"Negative. Proof: unsubstantial."

Surprised, Jazz raised his head. "So.. What?"

"Statement: telling Lord Megatron would be redundant. Repeat: no substantial evidence."

There was a moment of silence, before Jazz murmured "Thanks."

"Soundwave: has none nothing. Query: did Jazz find any information regarding Autobot intelligence?"

"Ah... No." The saboteur lied, hoping Soundwave wouldn't use his creepy telepathic powers on him.

The communications officer made a small sound. "Jazz: stayed with Head Tactician Prowl?"

Jazz didn't just tense this time; he froze completely. "Excuse meh?"

"Soundwave: was under the impression that Jazz stayed with Head Tactician Prowl of the Autobot force-"

"No."

"No?"

"No." Jazz confirmed, fists clenching angrily.

"Soundwave: mistaken." The tone made it clear that Soundwave didn't believe he was wrong at all. "Query: Jazz has no information on Head Tactician Prowl?"

"No. Ah wasn't wit' the Autobots."

"Of course." Soundwave stated. "Query: no tactical plans acquired?"

"No. Ah'm leavin' now." Jazz said sharply, standing and marching to the door.

Soundwave remained silent, watching through his visor as the saboteur shouldered the see-through door and disappeared down the halls.

...

"Prowl?"

The Praxian didn't glance up from his reports, even as the youngling climbed up on his desk and sat on his datapads. "What is it, Bumblebee? I must finish these reports."

The datapads underneath Bumblebee's yellow aft cracked as the youngling shifted. "I.. I'm tired."

"I will be finished shortly."

"You said that an hour ago, though. I'm hungry too..." Bumblebee said pitifully, looking down at his hands.

"I gave you the option to stay with Bluestreak and you declined." The tactician reminded him without taking his gaze off his datapad.

"I didn't want to be left alone. I didn't want you to leave aswell..."

That, at least, caused Prowl to set down his stylus and meet the youngling's gaze. A pang of grief shot through his spark at the sight of the sadness on Bumblebee's face. He hated that it was his fault, too; since Jazz had left, he had thrown himself wholeheartedly into his work in an effort to distract himself from thinking about the betrayal. The mech he had shared a berth with for close to a year, whom he had interfaced with, who was the closest thing to a friend he had ever experienced, had left with no warning. Without even saying goodbye. Prowl had wracked his processor thoroughly for an answer, desperate to know what he had done wrong. He had even applied his battle computer to the problem, with no results.

"We shall get you to berth, then." He said, finally standing up and subspacing a few of his more important datapads and reports. "I believe I have energon for you in my quarters."

When the little arms were held out expectantly, Prowl rolled his optics and picked up the youngling in his arms. A little yawn rounded Bumblebee's mouth into an 'o', and he lay his head down on Prowl's shoulderplates. "Tired.."

"I know." The tactician assured, opening his office door with one arm and holding the youngling with the other. "You will be tucked into berth very soon."

The corridors were completely empty; the final shift had ended long ago, and bots had long since headed to recharge. Prowl knew it wasn't fair on Bumblebee, but he was under so much pressure and it had been so long since he had raised a youngling.

By the time Prowl finally carried the youngling into their quarters, Bumblebee had fallen into a light recharge, his small helm lolling against his guardians shoulder. After gently setting the little mechling down on the couch, Prowl grabbed two cubes of energon and shook Bumblebee awake. "You may recharge after your energon."

Yawning, Bumblebee took the energon with both hands and began gulping it down. He slowed after Prowl shot him a disapproving look, however, and set down his empty cube on the table. "Thank you, Prowl."

"You are welcome." Prowl answered, draining his own cube. After he had set his own empty cube down, he picked the youngling up yet again.

On the day Jazz had left, Bluestreak had helped Prowl set up a berth for Bumblebee across the room; Prowl hadn't wanted the youngling to be crushed by himself and the saboteur in the night. It seemed he needn't have bothered. However, he set Bumblebee down on the berth and patted his helm awkwardly.

The youngling gave him a sad smile. "Tuck me in?"

"Of course." Grabbing an electrical heating blanket, Prowl gently wrapped it around Bumblebee's small body. "Is that adequate?"

Another yawn. "Mhmm."

"Go to recharge. You are exhausted." Prowl felt guilt wash over him - it was his fault he had stayed up so late working and had neglected to notice the youngling's exhaustion and hunger. After the small yellow bot's optics had offlined sleepily, Prowl turned and climbed into his own berth.

The first few nights after Jazz had left, the tactician had rolled over to seek warmth in the form of a small silver frame, only to find the other side of the berth cold and empty. Despite the fact that the berth had seemed too small with the two of them in it, now that there was only one it seemed disproportionately large.

With a sigh, Prowl lay back and tried to force those thoughts out of his processor. He hadn't thought he would ever feel like this should Jazz leave. He hadn't thought Jazz would ever leave. It was something that simply continued to niggle away at his processor; why would the saboteur leave? He had been doing so well, he hadn't threatened the life of anyone for almost two full days. All Prowl wanted to know was what he had done wrong to cause the Decepticon to leave.

Almost two and a half hours later, the Praxian was still staring at the empty space in the berth beside him. He had given up on trying to recharge a long time ago. The guilt inside him was consuming his processor. Suddenly, he realised he was being poked in the doorwings. With a grunt, he glanced behind him to see Bumblebee standing beside the berth.

The youngling's wide blue optics were full of tears, and he seemed to be barely choking back sobs. "Prowl? A-are you aw-wake?"

"Yes." The tactician sat up quickly, optics fixed on the child in front of him. "What is the matter?"

"I h-had a bad memory reflux."

There wasn't even the slightest hesitation before Prowl had lifted him into his berth. "Do you wish to tell me about it?"

Bumblebee sniffled and shuffled closer to the grown-up mech's frame. "Okay.. I was back in m-my house and my f-family was there - I mean m-my other family - and then they j-just got up and left me! My b-brother said n-no one wanted me, b-but then I saw Jazzie and I ran after h-him but he laughed and p-pushed me away and t-then he ran away t-too-"

"Calm down, Bumblebee." Prowl said stiffly, wiping away the youngling's tears.

"B-but what if he never comes back?" The mechling's voice had dropped to a whisper.

Pain seemed to lace itself around Prowl's spark. "He will." He found himself saying against his will. "Jazz will come back."

The words didn't have a huge effect, but at least the sobs lessened slightly. "C-can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Of course you may."

"We'll always be together, right?"

A pause. "Of course, Bumblebee."

Bumblebee slept soundly. Prowl didn't.

...

"Ah wanna be sent on a mission." Jazz demanded, flexing his claws experimentally.

Megatron raised a single optic ridge from where he was seated in the middle of the command deck. "Watch your tone, Jazz. I am the one who allowed you back into the Decepticon ranks."

"Ah can leave if ya want." The saboteur challenged with a snarl, visor darkening.

One of Megatron's bodyguards tightened their grip on their blaster, but the big tyrant just laughed. "Ah, Jazz. When you first returned, I feared you had been tamed! You seemed much less... yourself. I see now I was wrong." Megatron didn't even seem to notice how he was saying all the wrong things to the unstable mech before him. "I suppose you have earned some trust, haven't you? I will not return you to Head of Special Ops, but I will allow you to go on the scouting mission to North Pax with the rest of the operatives next orn, under the command of Erratic." If the leader of the Decepticons saw the way Jazz tensed up at the mention of Erratic, he didn't let on. "I suppose I could also allow you to interrogate an Autobot we have in captivity. He is proving to be quite stubborn."

There was a brief pause where it looked like Jazz was simply going to walk out. But then, he nodded. It was a semi-respectful gesture (for him, at least). "Thanks."

"Dismissed."

Barely withholding a sneer, Jazz marched out of the command deck. Mechs practically scrambled to get out of his way, and for good reason. They all knew exactly what would happen if they got in the way of one of his bad moods. As he walked, his path was cleared; as a result, he reached the brig in virtually no time at all. The only mech guarding the cells was who looked to be a new recruit. He was too shiny and polished to be a seasoned warrior, and his red optics kept glancing around nervously. Jazz eyed him up once, determined he could kill him with a flick of his wrist, and then decided he wasn't worth the effort. "Where is he?"

The guard glanced at Jazz quickly, clearly startled. "Sir!" He stood to attention so quickly, Jazz almost laughed. "Uh.. Who, sir?"

"The mech Megs needs t' be interrogated." His already frayed patience was wearing thin, and his voice dropped down to a snarl.

"Oh! Ah.. The Autobot? Yes, he's in the third cell on the left." The recruit babbled quickly, stabbing his fingers in the direction of the cell.

Without another word, Jazz turned on his heel and stalked towards the cell. It took only brief minute to hack the bars of the cell, and then Jazz was in.

The only other occupant of the dismal little square cell was a beaten, battered and almost offline 'bot in the corner. His paint seemed to have been stripped completely, with bare patches of red in some places. Jazz barely repressed a sigh when he realised he was recharging. "Wake up, fragger."

The Autobot stirred, optics flickering on weakly. His inner systems made odd noises as they were forced to run despite clear extensive damages to his frame. "Hnngh." As his optics struggled to focus, he looked up blearily. Upon seeing Jazz, he whimpered. "Not again."

"Nice ta meet ya, too." The saboteur snapped caustically. He was NOT in a good mood. "So, yo' an Autobot." When the mech didn't answer, Jazz leaned down and crushed his leg with one hand. "Answer meh, please."

The scream that tore from the Autobot's lips echoed throughout the entire brig, and brought a humourless smile to Jazz's face. "Y-yes! Yes, stop it! Please! Have mercy!"

"Mercy ain't mah thing." Jazz said, standing straight and regarding the mech coolly. "When were ya captured?"

The mech whimpered, gazing at his mangled leg. "T-two days ago."

Jazz perked up curiously. "On'y two days? How's Prowl doin'?"

The snivelling Autobot shot Jazz a disbelieving look. "P-Prowl? The tactician?"

"Yes!" With an impatient hiss, Jazz hunkered down over the injured mech, looking dangerously unbalanced.

"I.. He's fine..? I'm not familiar with him.." He said nervously, wincing as his leg was jostled slightly. He began babbling desperately in a clear attempt to save his miserable life. "We're in different departments, I've only ever heard my boss talking about him-"

"Who's yo' boss?"

The sharp demand made the Autobot wince. "Head of Special Ops, his name's Spectrum! He-"

"Does he talk about Prowl often?"

Another uncertain look. "Umm... Aren't you supposed to be asking me about Autobot stuff...?"

"Prowl's an Autobot." Jazz pointed out.

"Right. He.. Yeah, I suppose. He talks about him sometimes.."

"How often?"

"Uh..." He winced again when Jazz snarled, and quickly answered. "Ah, perhaps once a day?"

"Once a day?" Jazz asked, furious.

"Well, perhaps sometimes twice.. if he's seen him that day, he'll talk for longer, but-"

"Are ya one o' his mechs? In Special Ops? Are ya part o' his personal team?"

The mech jerked in surprise. "What? Um.. I'm not supposed to tell you."

Jazz snorted derisively. "Oh, please. Autobot Special Ops clearly ain't trained very well. Who was in charge o' yo' trainin'?"

"S-Spectrum."

"Oh. Tha' explains it."

The mech scowled. "He trains everyone. He's the best."

Irrational anger swelled up inside the silver saboteur, and he slammed his hand down hard into the mech's abdomen. There was a sharp 'crunch' as his claws tore into the protoform between the mech's armour. "No, AH'M the best. Don't ya dare forget tha'!"

Another scream was torn from the Autobot's lips as excruciating pain flooded his sensor net, blurring everything and turning his vision to static. The scream turned into a gurgle when Jazz's hand twisted in the wound. Another short shriek echoed throughout the cell as the hand was pulled out roughly, with a 'shlurp'.

With a sigh, Jazz sat back on his haunches and wiped his energon-stained hand on the Autobot's battered leg. "Oh, mech. Ah wish Ah didn' have ta do that." He stroked the mech's cheek mock-affectionately, watching blue optics flicked wildly. "But Ah did, so let's move on. Let meh tell ya some things 'bout Special Ops: never, ever tell yo' factions secrets. Never give any information. Ever. And most importantly; don't get caught."

The mech tried to speak, but only static spewed from his vocaliser.

"How rude o' meh!" Jazz blurted suddenly, as though just remembering something. "Ah never even got yo' name. What is it?"

More static. But then, barely discernible, the Autobot managed to croak "Hotline."

"Hotline." The saboteur said conversationally, leaning back comfortably. "Sounds like somethin' a rescue 'bot would be called."

The mech just whimpered. "Please.."

Another sigh from Jazz. "Shut up, mech. Jeez. Now, tell meh more 'bout Prowl."

Hotline looked as though he were about to cry. "Please! I don't know about him! I've only met him once!"

"Hmm... Ah don't think so. Ya were tellin' meh 'bout what Spectrum says 'bout Prowl."

"He- I don't remember! Me and the others laugh at Spectrum sometimes, 'cause he's so smitten with that tactician, but none of us have ever even met him!"

"Tell meh what he says 'bout him!" Jazz snarled, losing patience quickly.

"Okay! Okay!" Hotline cringed. "He, uh, he mentioned before that Prowl is pretty..? We all laughed at him 'cause we thought it was hilarious, but it was really serious for Spectrum. Um.. He talks about what a hard worker Prowl is, and how great he is and-"

With a roar, Jazz leapt to his feet and whirled around. In his fury, he took his anger out on the only thing available to him; Hotline. The world blurred in his anger, and cleared what seemed like mere seconds later. The Autobot was curled up and whimpering in pain; half his armour had been torn off and flung across the room, he was bleeding from his protoform, and he only had a single leg left.

Jazz took a step back, mildly surprised at the extent of Hotline's damages. "Huh. Sorry 'bout that. Mah temper gets the better o' meh sometimes." He giggled and shrugged, as if he had simply given the other mech a bruise. "Ya'll prob'ly be fine. Now tell meh more."

Hotline almost cried. It was going to be a long day.


End file.
